


The Mark of a Dragon

by IronsideHeldenhammer



Series: Blood of the Dragon [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronsideHeldenhammer/pseuds/IronsideHeldenhammer
Summary: Following the Battle of the Storm Spire, Team Zym is forced to come to the realization that bliss is not ignorance, and that it will take a lot more than returning the Dragon Prince Azymondias to repair relations between Humans and Elves......especially when there are forces at play to hinder their every move...
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Callum & Ezran & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Marcos/Sabah (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Blood of the Dragon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924570
Comments: 124
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**World Building**

So before I go on writing this fanfic series, I’m going to get some world building out of the way.

To start, I’m working with everything canon up until the end of Season 3.. so that means I will NOT be working with _Through the Moon_ (because I haven’t read it yet, so PLEASE NO SPOILERS!). Furthermore, this won’t be what I think will necessarily happen in S4+beyond. I’m doing this because I’m bored- but that does NOT mean I don’t care… I sincerely care, so I will be putting my heart and soul into this. I will be further developing all the characters as they would develop on their own, and I will be staying as true to them as I can. That being said, I will also be putting my own spin on things nonetheless.

In terms of the world itself, I’m working with the official map art released by Francesca Baerald, though slightly modified to show a lot of the political boundaries and custom locations I have added in.

Which brings me to my next point: _politics_

A dreaded word, I know. And my version of this world will be _full_ of it. Think Game of Thrones, just WITHOUT, you know, all the death associated with it. So don’t worry. Well, worry, but- ugh, you get my point.

Since the Five Human Kingdoms are more established than the Elven realms, they obviously have to stay the same. However, I will be putting some real world counterparts to enhance their culture as I see fit (also, prepare to see MANY pop-culture references as well, like ‘easter-eggs’ if you will):

  * Kingdom of Katolis:  
The one kingdom we all know and love. It’s culture in the show is depicted as a fantasy medieval kinda vibe, so I will be keeping to that- however, I can’t shake the general Roman feel I get from them also, but more like Medieval Roman.
  * Kingdom of Duren:  
I always got a kind of ‘Crusader/Templar’ vibe from them during the Final Battle/Battle of the Storm Spire, soooo yeah. Take that as you will. Same medieval fantasy kinda deal as Katolis, just leaning more towards medieval eurpoean than Roman, if that makes sense.
  * Kingdom of _Noodleooooodlia_ :  
Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Anyway, Neolandia will definitely have more of a Middle Eastern/Arab/Persian vibe to it, and also be less centralized.
  * Kingdom of Del Bar:  
I don’t know why, but I want these guys to be Vikings. Well, not _fully_ Vikings, but the vibe will be there. In the southeastern mountains will definitely be the Scandinavian-inspired groups (called the Ulfhednar), while in the north/northwest will be a more Russian/Slav inspired culture (called the Varnovaslavs).
  * Kingdom of Evenere:  
Evenere will definitely have more of a Byzantine Greek/Eastern Roman feel to them, and since they are the most secluded kingdom, it makes sense to have this sort of ‘alien’ feel about them.
  * Bear Paw/Independent Isles:  
Since next to nothing is known about these locations, that gives me a lot of creational freedom. However, me being the lazy college boi that I am, decided to not do much other than Ancient Greek, with my reasoning due to their proximity to Evenere, and being not as well established.



The Elven lands of Xadia are a bit trickier. Sure, since Xadia itself isn’t really expanded on by the creators, that gives me a lot more freedom- however, if you read my fanon lore about the Isles, you might know how this lazy college boi might like creative freedom. Nevertheless, I tried my best.

  * Sunfire Elves:  
The Sunfire Elves are split between two major kingdoms- the Kingdom of Lux Aurea in the north(ruled by the warrior-queen Janai), and the Kingdom of Igne Alinoria in the south (ruled by King Aurorion). They generally talk like the French, but with a bit of African influence as well.
  * Moonshadow Elves:  
The Moonshadow Elves aren’t really confined to one kingdom, rather a couple small villages/tribes. The one Moonshadow settlement we know is the Silvergrove, however I’ve taken the liberty of creating a few more: the Ebonvale, the Hollowmeadow, and the Darkweave. They generally talk like the Scottish.
  * Earthblood Elves:  
The Earthblood Elves, along with the Sunfire Elves, are probably the most numerous types of Elves in Xadia, only slightly beaten by the Sunfire Elves for their expanded life expectancy. They, along with the Sunfire Elves, have two main established Kingdoms, though many other smaller independent fiefdoms as well: the Kingdom of Umber Tor, and the Kingdom of the Drakewood. They generally talk like the Welsh.
  * Skywing Elves:  
The Skywing Elves are probably the third most populous Elf in Xadia, but definitely the most unified, with a singular Kingdom of Coelum nestled high within the Coleus Mountains in eastern Xadia. They generally talk like the English.
  * Tidebound Elves:  
Not much is directly known about the Tidebound Elves, even among other Elves. What is known is that they are mostly reserved towards the far northwestern corner of Xadia, around an area colloquially known as the Tidebound Archipelago. They generally talk like the Australians.
  * Startouch Elves:  
No one has seen a Startouch Elf for a few centuries, at least, and they have almost obtained a sort of ‘myth like’ status amongst the Xadian population. It is rumored that they once had a great Kingdom in the area that now comprises the Midnight Desert, and that it was lost during an event known as the ‘Great Betrayal.’



For a continuously updated forum for this expanded universe, please visit:

<https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DJpKlf6G5-Vt1GGjXudZaqf0DcsIazop8HGOglfIGYI/edit?usp=sharing>

Feel free to leave comments with any questions, and any holes I may have filled!

Without further ado, **enjoy!**


	2. My Mother Told Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum awakens to a horrifying nightmare, and is comforted by both Rayla, and then Ezran.  
> Viren awakens to a whole new world, but has a heartwarming, if not bone-chilling, conversation with his daughter.  
> Politics overtake Del Bar, as the Crown Prince Baldur comes to terms with his grandfather's death, and the possibility of his father's as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Changelog-
> 
> 15 Oct 2020
> 
> Hey all! I just realized there was a bit of an inconsistency in the chapter. I'd originally named a character 'Jarl Eirik,' and unknowingly changed his name to 'Jarl Eivar' in future chapters, so I went ahead and fixed it up in here. Now he is officially Jarl Eivar! Sorry for the confusion!

| - | - | - | - |

Three days following the Battle at the Storm Spire

“No, no, no!” A hurried pause. “RAYLA!!”

Tears immediately start to fall down his cheek. Yet, Callum thought, something seemed oddly familiar about this, but he couldn’t quite place it.

That didn’t matter now. He knew what he had to do. He’d rather not be in the world at all, than be without _her_.

The rush of cold wind as he jumped after her from the top of the Pinnacle almost froze the tears that refused to stop pouring.

“Manus, Pluma, Volantus!”

Nothing.

“Oh come on, please work... _please work!”_ He outstretched his arms. “Manus! Pluma! Volan-“

He couldn’t speak- his voice muffled. He tried screaming, but that didn’t work either.

_‘Callum!’_

That voice, he thought. He knew he’s heard it before.

In the distance, he saw _her_. She reached out for him, but he couldn’t do anything. He was failing her- and when she needed him most.

_‘Callum!!’_

There it was again. Where was it coming from? It sounded so close, yet so distant. Almost… ghost like.

He was distracted for too long, because now he saw the ground coming.

Fear.

Gripping fear. His heart palpitating.

Then, just nothing. Darkness, blackness.

Was this the afterlife? He wasn’t sure. His heart was still almost falling out of his chest, and he could feel a waterfall protruding from both his eyes.

“Callum! Wake up!!”

He felt a warm embrace. It was _her_.

It wasn’t the afterlife. It was still just, well, _the life_. He was alive, though unsure why.

“Callum, _please_ , wake up! A’m right ‘ere!” The embrace got tighter, though now his breathing steadied out. He recognized this accent, though it was noticeably thicker.

“I.. I..” he started to say, but he couldn’t. His sobbing was too intense. Instead, he just reciprocated the embrace given to him.

A knock on the door. “You guys alright in there?” Soren.

“Aye,” Callum’s partner replied, though hesitantly. “‘A think so…”

“Alright…” Soren responded. “You need me to get you anything?” He sounded concerned.

“Nay, jus’…” a pause, “actually, maybe some water?”

Footsteps, away from the door. He was down the hallway now.

“Ray..” Callum started, breaking through his trance. “Rayla…?”

“A’m right here, Callum.” He felt her hand coursing through his hair, caressing him… calming him... “’A aint goin’ nowhere, a’right?” He heard her choke a bit. Maybe she was almost crying, too?

A knock again.

“‘Is open!” Rayla yelled, though not too loudly, so as to not disturb the others. Although, judging by the fact Soren was awake, it may already be too late in that regard. “C’mon Callum. Sit up, for me?” He felt her starting to lift him up, so he finished going the rest of the way, now sitting upright on the mattress. She never even let go of him, instead just continuing to rub his shoulders, and just be there for him.

Soren opened the door carefully. He held two medium-sized glasses, filled about three-quarters of the way with water, and set them both down on the nightstand next to their bed. He then pulled up a chair and sat in front of the pair.

“You alright, buddy?” His voice still held the same concern as before.

Callum remained silent, instead opting to just continue his sobbing into his hands. Rayla rubbed his back, then reached for one of the glasses of water.

“C’mon,” she began, gesturing for the young Human to take it, “drink some, please.” She paused, concerned much like Soren, if not more. “Ye’ wannae talk about it?”

He took the water in silence, then took a sip. Then, all of a sudden, he felt parched- almost deprived of all water in his system. Maybe he had his endless tears to thank for that. He went on to gulp about half the glass, before resting it on the nightstand once more. Rayla, likewise, had some of hers as well.

Soren got up, sensing it might be a personal topic.

“I’m, uhh.. gonna just head back to sleep. You guys need me, just ask.” He placed a reassuring hand on the prince’s shoulder, then walked out, closing the door behind him.

“Callum…?”

He gulped. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about it, though he knew he probably should, anyway. _Big Feelings Time?_

He felt her four-fingered hand reach for his own, then her head rest on his back.

“You jumped. Again. And I went after you.” There was a coarseness in his voice, almost dread.

“Oh… Callum…” He felt the embrace again. He could hear the thickness of her accent dissipate, now back to its normal level.

“But, I… I couldn’t save you.” He reached for the water again, though he noticed his hands were shaking profusely. “The mage wings spell just didn’t work, and then I-“ He cut himself off, and he clenched up his fists.

“You we’re sayin’ those words in yer sleep. I tried to stop ye from finishing it, though, ‘cause, well, then the room would’ve become a lot more… feathery?” Rayla had felt him tense up despite her attempt at a joke, so she kissed the back of his head. “It’s okay, Callum.”

“No!” He snapped at her, though almost immediately regretted it when he felt her jump back. “I- I… I.. I’m sorry, It’s just… It… it’s _not_ okay. I didn’t save you. I failed you…”

“Callum,” Rayla let out a sigh. “But you _didn’t_ fail me; you _did_ save me.” She grinned. “And I seem to remember a nice airborne kiss during our flight, too.” There was a soft tenderness in her voice, trying her best to calm him down with the thoughts of some happy moments.

“But, but what _if_ I didn’t? I- I saw you reach up to me, through the clouds, and I just felt this unshakable fear that I was going to los-“

“Hey, sad prince?” She cut him off, and positioned herself to sit next to him on the side of the bed. She out her hand on his far cheek, then turned his head to meet hers, as they rested foreheads on each other. “You can’t play the ‘what if’ game, alright?”

As his eyes met hers, she saw just what kind of fear he was talking about. She looked directly into his tear-ridden, bloodshot eyes, and then she placed both of her hands on his clammy cheeks, and brought him in to kiss his lips. As they moved apart, and as his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the room, he noticed a small bruise forming on her left temple. _Did I… Did I do that?_

“Rayla…?” He asked cautiously, reaching for the mark.

She seemed to pull back, and scratched her head. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” She gave a half-smile, and could tell it wasn’t convincing the one she was trying to calm down. “You of all know I’ve suffered far worse. After all, you we’re just-“

Callum sighed heavily, then slowly looked back to the corner once more. “So it _was_ me?”

Rayla leaned her head on his shoulder, and then placed her hand on his other. “It was an _accident_ , Callum.” She moved her head to kiss his shoulder once more, then moved to lay back down, patting the open space next to her. “Now come on, we’ve got a big day tomorrow. You know the Queen called the Dragon Moot, and some of the Elven nations are expected to attend as well. We need you on your best, you big dumb human.” She poked his back with her finger at the last comment, clearly meant to simply jest. “Now come on, hold me.” She gave a grin that Callum was likely to never forget, and so he went to lay down next to her, enveloping the Moonshadow in his arms, though ever mindful of the horns on top of her head.

| - | - | - | - |

Callum did not wake up that morning- though mostly because he just simply did not fall back asleep. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but rather his mind was just racing with too many thoughts, too many ideas. He thought of how the meeting would go: of how some of the invited Elven lords might act, or simply _react_ to Humans even ‘gracing the Spire with their presence,’ as the Lady Janai so eloquently explained. He also feared of some of the Draconic guests that might attend, as well, namely a particularly grumpy, and blind, Archdragon of the Sun- one whom they’ve already had the pleasure of meeting once before. He even thought of the fact that they never found Viren’s body.

Then there was also the fact that this was the first time he and Rayla were actually in the same bed together. His Aunt Amaya had originally, and specifically, told the two of them that they would, at the _very least_ , be on separate beds, if not in separate rooms, but when Callum’s first nightmare had hit the night before, Rayla just didn’t want to leave him alone for a potential second one, so she snuck into his room to comfort him after everyone retired themselves, knowing full well what kind of ‘talk’ the two of them might endure should the Katolian General find out. He wasn’t even sure if his Aunt even _knew_ what was between him and Rayla.

When the prince saw the first break of light, he figured it far too late to continue his impossible quest for sleep, and so he lifted the Elven arm draped across his chest as gently as he could, and walked the lonesome, quiet halls, not daring to make a peep.

“Callum?” A familiar voice called behind him.

“Oh, hey Ez…” He said quietly as he turned around. “What’re you doing- oh really? Come on…” The prince started to chuckle as he witnessed his little brother hold Bait in one hand, and a jelly tart in the other.

“What?” He said, face half-stuffed. Though Callum noted he was crunching a bit too much for the pastry to be considered fresh.

Callum simply crossed his arms. “How old even _was_ that one?” A slight chuckle followed afterwards, though he was still rearing from the effects his dream put on his state of mind.

“Only like a week…” Ezran replied shyly. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, and Callum saw it.

“What’s wrong, Ez?” _What’s got you up so early?_ Was the _real_ question he wanted to ask, but he felt like he already knew the answer to that one.

The boy-king scratched at the back of his head. “That was my last one…” he admitted, which indeed was a tragedy concerning Ezran, though not too much to warrant the sad emotion not leaving at his statement.

Callum laughed, only if it was forced. “Come on, Ez. Really, what’s up?”

Ezran walked toward his brother and hugged him. “I heard screaming coming from your room last night, so Soren went to check on you.” He paused to look up at his brother. “That’s your _second one_ , Callum. I’m worried about you.”

Callum sighed, returning the embrace of his brother. “I know, kid. I’m sorry.” Ezran broke the hug, then crossed his arms. “I’m fine, Ez. Really, I am.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Callum ruffled Ezran’s hair slightly. “I’m just heading out for some air, is all. Before the big meeting, you know?” There was a lack of reassurance in his voice.

“Alright, just-“ Ezran paused, then quickly hugged his brother again. “Just, don’t go jumping off again, okay? Rayla neither.”

Callum winced at his brother’s request. It was a sore subject, but not entirely unfounded. “Yeah, sure, buddy.” He rustled Ezran’s hair once more before heading to the top of the Pinnacle.

It was somber, if not tranquil. Peaceful, even, without the whole evil-Viren-trying-to-consume-a-baby-dragon nonsense that had transpired not even a few days ago. He sat down in the same spot Rayla had when she ran from an argument they were in about what to do, before the Battle.

He was left to his own devices for a little bit. _At peace._

The wind was whistling.

Silence.

Footsteps.

Silence again.

“Hey, sad prince?”

Callum turned to see Rayla, probably still half-asleep by the look on her face, and the ‘sleep crusties’ around her eyes. “Hey, yourself,” he replied in kind.

“You doin’ okay?” She walked over and sat next to him. “Did you get _any_ sleep at all?”

With a reply as simple as a shake of his head, he found her wrapping her arms around him to comfort him. “Why don’t we move away from the edge, huh?” She began to lift him to his feet. “Can’t go rememberin’ all the lows, now, okay?”

Callum now stood on his feet, and gave Rayla a quick peck on the lips. He pulled back, then rubbed her bruise with his hand. “My aunt’s going to ask about that, you know?” He sighed, feeling both sorry for harming her unintentionally, and for the situation they now found themselves in.

“Yeah, I know,” Rayla began, taking Callum’s hand into her own. She then kissed his palm. “We might have to think of an alibi for that, don’t you think?” She then, herself, began thinking. “Unless… you wanna tell her…?” She asked rather sheepishly, unsure of what Amaya might think, given that their first introduction to each other was the General attempting to interrogate and kill her.

Callum squeezed her hands to comfort her. “Well, I can’t _lie_ to her, but let’s try not to bring it up, okay? If she asks, we tell her, but I don’t really want to cause a fuss right now… _especially_ before the big meeting.”

Rayla smirked, then went to wet her fingertips before patting down some of Callum’s upright hair. “Yeah, and speaking of ‘the big meeting,’ we should both get ourselves cleaned up. Word is we’ve drawn in quite the crowd.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, curiously. “And who exactly did the cat drag in to this part of the world?” A grin came across his face.

“Supposedly some Earthblood nobles, all of varying stature. I don’t really know much about them, but I do know some are from Umber Tor, and also the Drakewood.” She stopped to think for a moment, recalling her memory. “Pretty sure the King of Ignes Alinoria, himself, as well.”

 _Ignes Alinoria?_ He thought to himself. _I haven’t heard of that place._

“It’s the second of the two Sunfire realms, dummy.” Rayla said, almost as if she knew what he was thinking. “You’ve got Lux Aurea in the north of Xadia, and Ignes Alinoria in the south. I’ve never been there, but the city is a bit smaller than its northern counterpart. Just as beautiful, I’ve heard, even though it’s not built on the Sun Nexus.

“But not as beautiful as you,” Callum said intimately, then reaching over to kiss her.

Rayla simply just nudged him away rather playfully. “You’re awfully sappy, aren’t you?” She smiled, then returned the kiss.

The two of them laughed. “Now come on,” Rayla began, “the meeting’s in a few hours, and you need to make yourself presentable as the high-and-mighty Crown Prince of Katolis.”

“Right…” Callum said, his tone becoming somber again, “I guess I _am_ the ‘Crown’ Prince, now, aren’t I?”

Rayla looked down, knowing what he meant. “You can’t think about that, Callum. If you keep up here just feelin’ sorry for yourself, yer not gonna get anything done.”

The Prince sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He held out an arm. “M’lady?”

Rayla snickered, but wrapped her arm around his anyway. “Oh, we’re playin’ with the fancy titles, now? I guess that’s just the perks of having a prince all to myself.”

The two then walked back down to prepare for the possibly, and downright arguably, most important meeting to be held in all the land.

| - | - | - | - |

“So, you… you really…? I really…?” A confused, startled Viren mumbled, moreso to himself, as his gaze darted back and forth between his bruised, almost broken hands, and the cocoon that is ‘Little Bug-Pal’ had made for himself.

“Dad, that…” Claudia began, though still struggling to catch her breath, “…that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay… that you’re alive.” She managed to sit back, resting on top of her heels to balance herself.

A small, crooked smile came across the recently resurrected Lord’s face, though part of it was sincere. He placed a reassuring hand on his exhausted daughter’s shoulder. “I…” he stumbled slightly, “thank you, Claudia.”

Claudia fixed her hair, which was half-whitened at this point. “Oh, it’s really nothing, just had to do a little trial and error on-“ She caught herself, “you know, maybe not a good time for details right now.” The chuckle she gave at the end was more nervous than anything, unsure if she even _wanted_ to recall the process she undertook to bring her father back from the dead.

“Where… are we?” Viren asked, looking around the cave. The cocoon gave on an uncanny, and downright uncomfortable, source of light.

“Well, we’re all a bit north of the Storm Spire,” Claudia admitted. The northern location would certainly explain the nip in the air. “Shiverglades, I think? Or was it Silverglades? I don’t know, really.”

Viren had raised an eyebrow. “ _All?_ ” He asked, concerned. There was a foul odor in the room, and he saw what he thought was a… boot, around the corner? No… not simply a boot; a foot, with a leg attached to- _No, can’t think about that._

“Yeah, there a handful of others who… escaped, the battle.” Claudia had a tone of dread. “Among them the King of Del Bar.” She scratched the back of her head.

“The King of Del Bar?” Viren questioned, though now he thinks he knows where he recognized that… foot… from. “But-“

“He’s… not with us anymore.” Claudia said, looking sheepishly over to the corpse on her left. “He, among others, ‘volunteered’ for my attempt to bring you back. Others…” she paused, and retracted her head inward, much like a turtle, seemingly out of shame, “… _didn’t_.”

Viren gulped, knowing full well what his daughter was referring to. “His… ‘sacrifice,’ will be remembered.” He, too, felt rather uncomfortable with the situation. All he wanted was a bright future for humanity, and for all the nations of men to prosper, and to grow in the new age he would bring. Instead, he had just brought them death and suffering instead, in his own hubris and lust for power.

No, it wasn’t _his_ lust for power- it was… _Aaravos_ …

“So… dad…” Claudia began, attempting her best to break the awkward silence that engulfed them since Viren became lost in his own thoughts. “How did you… you know…? ‘Fall’?”

Her question was one on a sore subject, both figuratively and physically, but he had no reason to keep his daughter in the dark. “I, I had _him_ in my grasp, the Dragon Prince. But there was this young Moonshadow Elf, couldn’t be any older than Prince Callum, she…” it was taking a toll on his newly resparked brain to recall his memory. “She… grappled me and threw me off of the top of the Spire, the Pinnacle, though resigned herself to the same fate.” He paused, then took a long, deep breath. “That is, until Prince Callum himself jumped after her.”

“What?!” Claudia exclaimed, although maybe a bit too loud for her father sitting infront of her, as he moved to relieve his ears. “Oh! I- I’m sorry, but, what? Callum… jumped after her?!” She was in disbelief. The only… body… she found would be that of her father. She found no such Elf or Callum among him.

“Yes, but he… saved her.” He paused again, sighing. He was getting tired, and understandably so. “I don’t quite understand how but he… grew wings? That’s what I saw, before…” he scratched the back of his head. “Before it all went black.”

“Callum _was_ casting a lot of magic during the battle, stopping a lot of the soldiers from climbing the Spire, but I also don’t understand how.” She shifted herself to sit on her rear, as her heels were becoming strained. “He told me he smashed my Sky Primal Stone in order to hatch the Dragon Prince.” She paused, thinking. “Do you think, he maybe…?”

“No,” Viren responded sharply. “It’s impossible for a Human to connect to a Primal Source. Least of all, _him_.”

Claudia shivered in her skin when her father regarded the Prince in such a negative light. She was still his friend, _wasn’t she_? The more she thought about it, the more she grew worried. She betrayed him not once, not twice, but three times now: first at the Moon Nexus, second when she and Soren were battling a Sun Dragon, and now a third when she and her father brought an entire army to their doorstep.

Though, this Moonshadow Elf her father described. Could it be _her_?

“Hey, dad?”

“Yes, Claudia?”

“This, Elf,” Claudia was trying to form her questions as she spoke. “Was she a little taller than Callum? Twin blades that kinda just _folded_ into the hilts?”

“Yes… why-“

“Then I know _exactly_ who you are talking about.” Now Claudia’s voice held anger. “Her name is Rayla, and Callum chose _her_ over Soren and I countless times.” She clenched her fists just _thinking_ about her.

“Well,” Viren said in reply, “we can worry about all that when we get back to Katolis. Reform our forces, revise a new strategy.”

“Dad…” Claudia began, worried, “we lost the battle. I don’t know how much of it you saw, but we _lost_! The Duren’s Folk showed up last minute on our flank and just… crushed us entirely.” She halted for a moment. “It’s likely that Ezran and Callum are back in charge, again.”

“Damn it!” Viren exclaimed, mumbling and grumbling in pain as he struggled to get onto his feet. “Well, you said there are others here? How many are with us?”

Claudia sighed, trying her best to recall. “I… I don’t know. I was just so fixated on you. I want to say there were maybe forty overall, including me, but…” She gulped, afraid that she was going to finally come to terms with her ‘experiment.’ “…maybe now like twenty? Twenty-five, at most?”

Viren sighed, holding his back with his hand to support its aching nature. “I am… sorry, you had to go through that.”

“It… It’s fine, really,” she said to reassure herself more than her father. “Like I said, all that matters is-“

A crack.

“What was…” Claudia asked, cutting herself off at the sound of that noise.

A tear through fabric.

“Is… is it…?” Viren said with a concerned voice, darting his head to the trapping of webs and twine.

A small, carapace-like hand broke through the cocoon.

| - | - | - | - |

It was a cold morning in Hinterpeak, even for the summer. Granted, the mountains of Del Bar were _always_ cold, regardless of the season, and it certainly didn’t help that Hinterpeak itself was a fortress-city carved into and around Del Bar’s tallest mountain, but there was always room to complain, wasn’t there?

 _“Ugh…”_ a young female voice came from the end of the dining table, “When do you think he’ll be back?”

The Crown Prince of Del Bar was sitting across his sister, whom had asked the question, and didn’t even look up from his breakfast to meet her annoyed gaze. “It wasn’t just father that went, you know. Three whole Clans’ worth of warriors followed him to avenge Grandfather.” He took a swig of his drink- a glass of water, as he did not want to start drinking alcohol _too_ early in the morning, and then put it down. “But to answer your question: No, I have no idea when _they_ will be back, Svana.” He put an emphasis on ‘they’ to correct his sister’s mistake.

Princess Svana rolled her eyes. “Ugh... such a champion of the people, you are.”

He took a bite out of an apple, and didn’t even bother to finish chewing before he answered her. “You make that sound like a crime.”

“Baldur, come on…” she began, “You can’t _possibly_ believe to tell me you’re worried more about them than Father. It was mostly just men from the Varnovaslav clans, anyway.”

Now, his head twitched slightly. His sister had just hit a nerve. “Men, _and women_ , each with their own families to take care of, just like Father. Each of those warriors may have been a father or a mother themselves, or perhaps a brother and a sister, or a son or a daughter.” He then threw the apple at Svensa half-assedly. “ _You_ can’t believe to tell me you _don’t_ , even if ‘it was just the Varnovaslavs.’” His tone turned rather mocking.

“I would certainly care more for our own flesh and blood, rather than some random villager sworn to die for us.” His sister was disgusted that he would chuck an apple at her.

“Sworn to _fight_ for us, not necessarily die. No true Del Barren fears death, but no true Del Barren would likewise, in good consciousness, just knowingly march an army to their impending doom.” He cleared his throat. “You know, you really are just a self-centered, spoiled little-“

The door to the dining hall opened, and a man clad in chainmail over furs halted, and stood at attention. “Crown Prince Baldur, Princess Svana, _its_ ready.”

Baldur cleared his throat. “Right, well…” The tone clearly changed as he looked up to his sister. “Let’s get this over with, eh?” The pair then quickly finished up what little of their meal as they had left, and then began walking down the hallway, escorted by this one guard, clearly a member of the palace’s Varangian Guard judging by his equipment.

“So, what’s your name?” The Prince asked inquisitively. He made it a point to get to know as many of the people as he could, even if he admittedly couldn’t exactly remember all of them.

“Captain Asbjorn, my Lord.” The guard replied, to which Baldur smiled.

“Same as my father. King Asbjorn Floriansson.” He looked up warmly to the guard. “A solid name. Strong as iron.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” There was a hint of appreciation in his heart, even if he did not show it. Svana simply just groaned at her brother.

However, the group accidentally split when they came to a fork in the hallway.

“Captain?” Baldur asked, confused. “Isn’t the ceremony this way?” He pointed down the hallway which he was going.

“Oh, my apologies, my Lord, but your uncle, General Haakon, summoned the Moot once more.” Baldur and Svana appeared confused at the Captain’s statement. “The General had sent me to retrieve you two for it, and then escort you all to the ceremony afterwards.”

Baldur and Svana did not agree on much, but this situation they did agree was confusing. “The Moot?” Svana began, “the Moot is only called when…” she paused, swallowing her own words.

“When it’s time to choose a new King…” Baldur finished for her.

“Yes, I’m aware, my Lord, but I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.” He paused. There’s something he’s not telling them. “I really only have _rumors_ , anyway…” He finished, though the latter statement was rather hushed.

Baldur and Svana then followed him to the Great Hinter Hall, Hinterpeak Palace’s throne room. “What… kind of ‘rumors,’ Captain?” Baldur asked, though he feared the answer he might receive.

“Only what the rest of the Guard have been talking about.” He said, pausing before the door to the Hall. “Word is, The Kingdom of Duren marched shortly after King Viren’s forces toward the Storm Spire, and there’s been absolutely no word since.” He opened the door to allow the children of the King into the hall, mostly so he wouldn’t have to answer any more questions from them than he would have to, but more so to answer the orders of the General, whom the Prince and Princess found sitting atop their fathers throne, and all of the other Jarls and Boyars in all of their seats as well.

The Great Hinter Hall itself was arguably the coldest place within the Palace itself, though the tension seemed to make the room _boil_. The tension, however, was not _spoken_. The room was silent, which itself is scarier than any argument the Moot could come up with- because the Moot was _never_ silent.

There were nine stone chairs built within the very walls of the Hall itself, each to house a Jarl or Boyar for each of their respective Hold within Del Bar. Normally, each Hold ruler would simply send a dignitary in their stead, as they could truly never be bothered to even attend something deemed ‘not exactly important,’ however they were _all_ here… and they were _all_ silent.

“Ahh… Niece, Nephew…” A voice boomed from the Grand Stone Throne, breaking the almost unbearable atmosphere. “Please, join us.”

“Uncle Haakon…” Baldur said, confused at many things. Why had the Moot been called? Why was his uncle here? Why was his uncle in his father’s throne?

Baldur walked over to sit on Haakon’s right, with the Jarls of the Ulfednaren clans on his flank along the wall, and Svana took a seat on her uncle’s left, flanked by the Varnovaslavic Boyars.

“Uncle…” Svana began, worry on her voice as well, “what’s going on?”

The General sighed. “With my brother, your father, going off with King Viren of Katolis, and the… ‘unknown’ status of their _expedition_ , we are afraid we must fear the worst.” He paused, seeing the expressions on his brother’s children. “I have called the moot to discuss appointing a Regent, simply until we know what has happened. We simply need more information before we can act properly.”

Baldur crossed his arms. “Yes, we do need more information, Uncle, which is why I find it absurd that the Moot was called. Would it not make more sense to wait for more information before acting in this manner?”

One of the Boyars chimed in. “I am afraid I am of the same mindset as the boy, Haakon,” he began. Baldur remembered his name to be Drago, Boyar of the Perchenig Hold within the Varnovaslav region. “You speak of wanting more information, yet you call us here to appoint a Regent in the King’s absence.”

This time, a Jarl spoke up. Svaknir, Baldur recalled his name to be, Jarl of the Vallaland Hold of the Ulfhednar region. “Aye. It was not even three days ago we appointed Asbjorn as the King. We are tired, Haakon. We would like to go _home_.”

This time, it was his uncle that replied. “Jarls… Boyars… we are in a state of _war_. We must have someone who can properly manage the Kingdom until my brother’s return.” He paused, and then his voice turned somber. “ _If_ he returns. We should make sure there is a home to return to, if he does. And for all of us, because there certainly won’t be one for us if we simply do _nothing_ at all.”

Baldur took a deep breath, but he knew he had to prepare for that possibility. They had already lost their grandfather a little over a week ago to Moonshadow Elves, so he wasn’t sure if he was ready to attend two funeral ceremonies, one of which was to be held, presumably, immediately after the Moot.

Baldur was brought back to reality when he heard another Jarl laugh. “And who would you have us appoint, General? You?” He continued to laugh. Baldur could not recognize this Jarl, but he recognized his banner: the distinct crimson wolf’s head on a black field of the Aesling Hold. “Or perhaps his son? Another boy-king among the Pentarchy?” He scoffed. “We saw how well that worked out for Katolis.”

The Prince shifted in his seat, but it was not his position to snap at a Jarl- especially that of one of the most powerful Ulfednar clans of Del Bar. _Who the hell does he think he is?_

Haakon cleared his throat. “I would appoint whoever the Moot appoints, Jarl Eivar, as is our tradition. _If_ the Moot were to choose me, I would accept on my brother’s behalf, but I’m sure the same would go for my nephew, should he be chosen.” He then shot a look towards one of the Boyars, and nodded slightly. The others didn’t seem to notice this subtlety, other than Baldur himself, which he found odd.

“Perhaps it _should_ be the General Haakon,” he began. He recognized that voice. His Uncle-in-law, brother to Haakon’s wife. Boyar Iven. Iven ‘the Bloody,’ they called him. A reputation well earned. “Especially if it is just for a short time. General Haakon has done more for the security and safety of the Kingdom as a whole than his brother, King Asbjorn, or their father King Florian before them.” The Boyar then turned to speak to Baldur directly. “I mean no direct disrespect to you, nephew, however I feel that I must agree with Jarl Eivar on the matter that a man of your…” he paused, “inexperience,” _Age_ , he meant, “would not necessarily be beneficial for the Kingdom during these trying times.”

“No disrespect taken, Boyar Iven.” _Much disrespect taken_.

Jarl Eivar laughed. “Well, that’s certainly easy for you to say, Iven. The man’s married to your fucking sister.”

The woman beside him, another Jarl, decided to try and put him in his place. “But you mustn’t disregard the valid points that the Boyar Iven brings up, Jarl Eivar. General Haakon has most certainly done more for this Kingdom than his father and brother combined.” She paused, then scowled. “Certainly more than _you_.”

“If you think I will sit here and take this from you, Ivaea, you are most certainly-“

“But you will sit there and take it from me, Eivar.” The Jarless snapped. Jarl Ivaea… Baldur hadn’t heard of her before. “General Haakon is right. We are in a state of war. We cannot afford to sit here and squabble amongst ourselves while those… _beasts_ do Gods-know-what beyond the border.” She paused, then looked toward his uncle. “My vote is for General Haakon. To become the temporary King-Regent, at least until we learn the outcome of the joint expedition into Xadia.”

Haakon grinned, and nodded towards her. “Thank you, Jarl Ivaea.”

Another Boyar decided to put his two cents into the equation. “Call it what it is, woman. An _invasion_.” Boyar Cvitko. “But yes, I am of a mind with Ivaea. My vote is for General Haakon as well.”

“And mine,” chimed in Boyar Iven.

“Aye,” Jarl Svaknir added, “me as well.”

The remaining two Boyars, and the fourth Jarl, also cast their say for Baldur’s uncle. The prince was, perhaps, a bit disheartened, both at the situation they found themselves in, and the fact he wasn’t chosen, but the latter also comforted him somewhat, strangely enough. He didn’t feel right taking his father’s place, even if temporarily.

“Well,” Eivar finally chimed in, drawing the gaze of the rest of the Moot, “seem’s I’m shit out of luck for getting it.” He chuckled, though somewhat nervously. “Since everyone’s already voting for you, Haak’, seems I’ve got to, too.”

Haakon nodded. “Thank you, battle-brother.” _Battle-brother_? Baldur knew he and Jarl Eivar had fought together on a few occasions, but he didn’t know they were close- let alone even friends. Although he did someone silently laugh at his uncle’s nickname… _Haak’_ …

“Then it is decided.” The General said, his voice booming. “By decree of the Moot, I will be appointed as King-Regent of Del Bar, until we learn of the outcome of the…” he paused, looking to Boyar Cvitko, “…invasion, into Xadia. When we do learn of the outcome, and my brother is alive and well, I will remain in this position until he returns home.”

“And if he isn’t?” Jarl Ivaea had asked this question, which Baldur must admit, he himself was curious to the answer as well.

“If, Gods forbid, my brother is feasting with the Gods, and with our father, then the Moot will reconvene once more. Determine who should _properly_ succeed King Asbjorn.”

Baldur felt a heavy weight in his heart. His father had only been king for three days, and crowned so in the wake of his grandfather’s assassination, and the Moot is already setting a plan in motion in case he is already dead. Not only that, but when they had elected his father to the throne, they had all sung praises of him, and that he was a spitting image of his father, Florian. Now? They cast him aside so easily, he may as well have been fishing bait. Is this really something he wished to inherit?

“If the Moot finds these terms acceptable, then we will proceed to the next…” Boyar Iven had broken the silence, though almost immediately returned to it when trying to find a proper word. “…event.”

There seemed to be a general agreement among the Moot, which, like it’s silence, was often rare, but these were most definitely unprecedented times. As Baldur stood up, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You understand why we held this meeting, correct, nephew?” It was his uncle. Haakon was, as his grandfather described him, opportunistic, but he could hear genuine concern for his nephew’s wellbeing in his tone.

“Yes, Uncle. We are at war, and if there is no one to command properly, we risk falling to the enemy.” Baldur said, though rather unconvincingly.

“Not just the enemy, Baldur. But falling to ourselves.” He gave his nephew a pat on the back, as well as Svana, as they walked to the palace catacombs. “I never envied my father, your grandfather, for how he had to put up with those stuck-up asses, but someone has to do it.” He paused. “Are you two doing okay?”

Svana simply shrugged her shoulders, but Baldur answered for the both of them. “Yeah… well, as well as we can, I guess, all things considered.”

Haakon gave a quick kiss on the top of each of their heads, before bringing them in for a quick embrace. “You know I love you both as if you were my own children, right?” When he received two quick nods in reply, he asked Baldur a direct question. “Are you ready for your part?”

“Yeah… just- yeah.” His mind was distant. The thought of his father possibly being dead, the thought of his grandfather really being dead. He shook himself out of his own mind. He had an important part to play in this ceremony. It was the funeral for his grandfather, the late King Florian. Assassinated by elves, no less.

Normally, Baldur’s part would have been filled in by Florian’s heir, which would be his father, Asbjorn, but before his father left to rendezvous with the Crown Prince Kasef of Neolandia, Baldur had the task given to him.

As they entered the main antechamber of the Hinterpeak catacombs, colloquially called the ‘Tomb of Fallen Kings’ with how long Hinterpeak had served as Del Bar’s capital, and how long Baldur’s family had likewise served as Del Bar’s ruling family, there were a lot of past monarchs entombed within. The room itself was hollowed out, large enough to fit a longship capable of seating forty warriors, room enough to build said longship, as well as an entourage of around one hundred Del Barrens, all present for King Florian’s procession… all present for Baldur to begin, and lead, an ancient Del Barren funeral tradition- what could be considered as a sort of ‘goodbye’ song, which was sung before a burning longship containing the deceased for nine days after they had originally fallen. Nine days of mourning… nine days of grieving…

Baldur cleared his throat, as some of his cousins and a few of the Varangian Guard began to set the boat alight, all in predesignated points.

He had to wait for the fire to reach the mast of the ship before he began, but when it did, a single tear formed in his eye as he began,

_“My Mother told me,_

_Someday I would buy,_

_Galleys with good oars,_

_Sail to distant shores,_

_Stand up on the prow,_

_Noble barque I steer,_

_Steady coarse to the Haven,_

_Hue many foe-men._

_Hue many foe-men.”_

There was a general roughness in his voice, as if he wasn’t even prepared to mentally do this. He still really hadn’t come to terms about his grandfather’s death, and something about the whole situation also seemed off. The monarchs of Neolandia _and_ Evenere succumbing to similar assassination attempts, though the former faring much better than the latter, considering he survived. And all in short order after the, at the time, _Lord_ Viren was absolutely blasted during the meeting of the Pentarchy? Something didn’t sit right.

His thoughts were broken as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking behind him, he saw his uncle give a reassuring smile, though he quickly caught himself up with the rest of the entourage, as they had continued to sing the small verse ahead of him.

The song in itself was symbolic. The beginning part referred to the All-Mother, the chief deity in the Del Barren pantheon, telling each Del Barren that they would someday return home to the Haven in command of their own ship, crewed by Her foe-men.

_“Hue many foe-men._

_Hue many foe-men…"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> First chapter up. Not sure how many are going to be in this work, but I have a general idea how I want things to do. How I go about getting there remains to be seen, both for you and me!  
> I should have the second chapter up by the weekend, and if not then a little afterwards.
> 
> Posted 15 Sep 2020


	3. Like You've Seen a Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcos recovers from his wounds.  
> The peace negotiations begin, but quickly devolve into in-fighting.  
> The Prince of Del Bar trains.  
> Callum and Rayla have a stern conversation with General Amaya.  
> Viren and Aaravos discuss their situation.

| - | - | - | - | - |

Three-and-a-half days following the Battle of the Storm Spire

“Ugh…” a moan came from the medical tent. “Oh Gods… it _hurts…_ ” A Katolian lay on a cot at the base of the Storm Spire, clenching his stomach.

“That is what happens when you take a blunt impact to your abdomen,” an accented voice said in reply, “Though, at least I _think_ , for Humans, anyway.” A warm smile came across this female’s face.

“Real funny, Sabah.” The soldier complained in jest. “Or was it Sabir? I’m sorry, it’s been a long-“

“It is Sabah.” She smiled again. “You said your name was Marcos, was it not?”

“Yeah… yeah, Marcos.” He grunted in pain, and a warm hand rested on his shoulder.

“It will pass. Your body is healing itself.”

Marcos laughed, though immediately regretted it when his stomach clenched up. “Sure doesn’t _feel_ like it.”

“Well that is because you took a nasty hit, all things considered.” Sabah then reached over for a rather foul-smelling liquid. “Come on, drink some of this. It will help with the pain.”

Marcos’ head recoiled when Sabah put the vial up to his mouth. “Oh, Gods, what the hell is that?”

Sabah’s face soured. “Do Humans always complain like this when they are being treated for an injury?” She chuckled slightly. “It is just a little Fireflower petals mixed in with some water. Now please, drink it. It will burn going down-“

Marcos coughed heavily, though he had to use every part of himself to not straight up vomit the contents back out. That didn’t stop Sabah from giving Marcos a sour look, which was motivation enough to finish the small bottle.

“To answer your question: Yeah, we pretty much do.” His voice was strained, likely due to the rather heated nature that came from the drink.

Sabah laughed, sitting back down in a makeshift chair. “Then I feel bad for all the Human doctors.”

The young crownguard shifted on the cot, attempting to get in a more comfortable position, still laying on his back. “Why? Your normal patients don’t complain as much to you Elf doctors?”

Sabah smirked, though was bothered by the ‘Elf doctor’ comment. “Me? Oh, no. I am no doctor. But no, we Elves do not complain as much when someone is trying to save our lives.”

“Yeah? Then what are you?” Marcos would be lying if he had said he wasn’t curious.

Sabah crossed her arms, then leaned back. “I am a soldier, like you.”

“A soldier, eh?” He asked. “Well, then let me ask you this: What would you be if you weren’t? You know, weren’t a soldier?”

Sabah pondered the question for a minute. What _would_ she be? “Well, as a little girl, I guess I always wanted to be a healer, but I just couldn’t keep to the spells, so I just went the simple life, I guess.”

Marcos raised an eyebrow. “Wait, aren’t all Elves born with magic?”

“Born with magic, yes,” she began, “but that does not necessarily mean all Elves are _good at_ magic.” The Sunfire Elf paused for a moment, thinking for an example. “That would be like saying a Human wanting to become an apothecary. They have to learn the skills to become one, but not all make it.”

“Huh… never thought of it that-“ he clenched up again. “Oh _gods_ … Ohh I think that thing wore off.”

Sabah smiled. “No, it didn’t. It never worked, that was just some of my personal rations. The conversation is what got your mind off of the pain.” She started to laugh. “I will go get the healer, just don’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah… ‘Don’t go anywhere,’” he laughed. “Like I even could.”

Sabah just smiled as she exited the tent, looking over her shoulder back at Marcos.

| - | - | - | - | - |

“I always hated this part.” Callum said, sitting down next to Rayla, with both their hands intertwined with each other’s.

“What,” Rayla started to ask, resting her head on his shoulder, “the waiting, or the greeting?”

Callum smiled. “If I said yes, would that count as an acceptable answer?”

Rayla laughed. “I suppose so.” She stood up, and helped Callum to his feet as well. “You _do_ know what you’re going to say to each of them, right?” She wanted to make sure he was prepared.

“Oh, I figured I’d wing it for each one.” He started to laugh, because now his mind was trying to think of a way to connect his comment to the literal wings he could create with a spell, but when he couldn’t, he shook himself out of his own mind, which could be dangerous if he was left alone inside of it for too long.

“What’s wrong?” Rayla looked concerned, because she caught him escaping his head.

“What? Oh, nothing. Was just trying to think of a joke, but really couldn’t, is all.” He said, though she didn’t seem convinced. “I promise, Rayla.” He then leaned in to kiss her, which she returned.

“Ahem.” A voice from the entrance to Zubeia’s nest exclaimed. A male. Commander Gren.

_Oh… shit…_

When he and Rayla slowly turned their gaze to where the voice came from, they met their eyes with Callum’s Aunt, who held her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Mind explaining what… _that_ … was about?” She signed, with Gren translating. “Yeah because I’m just a little curious myself.” Gren said, though this time speaking for himself.

Callum almost felt his heart skip a beat, and he looked frantically over to Rayla, who likewise was just as panicked as he was. They quickly broke apart, both completely flustered, and both mumbling incoherently, struggling to even form words instead of sounds.

It was then, either by saving grace from the Gods or another divine force, that one of the first attendants entered the room.

“We _will_ be discussing this later.” Amaya had signed. Callum wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved, or fearful for his life. _I mean, she’s my Aunt, right? Not like she’d… hurt me, or anything?_ He then retreated back into his own mind again, recalling that when his aunt and Rayla met for the first time, the General had attempted to, and almost succeeded in, killing Rayla- not that Rayla would admit it, of course.

Callum was broken out of his trance again when he heard Ezran greeting the Elf, and he deduced it was because Ezran sensed he was spiraling downwards. Also the nudge from Rayla helped cue the young King as well.

The Elf looked like an Earthblood- and a rather genuine one, unlike Callum’s crude, but entirely innocent, mockery of one in his impersonation.

“And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, King Ezran of Katolis. I come on behalf of Lord Ferion of Umber Tor, King Under the Mountain.” There was a slight hostility in his tone, though it was understandable since there were _Humans_ within the sanctity of the Dragon Queen. However, these Humans were explicitly regarded as guests of the Dragon Queen, and rumors were circulating within the Earthblood camps that they were also her guardians and protectors as well, so it was no his place to question their presence.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Terrier.” Ezran said in reply, giving a slight, but cordial bow.

_Gods, how Ez was almost a spitting image of King- no, Dad. Of Dad._ Callum gave off a small grin, and when Ezran looked over to him when he was done speaking with the representative, Callum gave him a heartwarming nod.

“That was supposed to be your job, you know.” Ezran whispered to him as he walked over. “I’m not covering you for the next two.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks buddy.” Callum ruffled his hair slightly, though not too much so he didn’t ruin the regal persona Ez had adopted. “I kinda just got… lost, I guess?”

“Well, you’ve got one coming up now,” Rayla said, nudging him in the gut. “You’ve got a proper king this time.” She lovingly pushed him forward. “Go get ‘em, shadowpaw.” She then gave Callum a wink.

Callum returned a smile, though he then blushed again remembering his Aunt was in the room, and he felt her eyes drilling into the back of his neck. He took a deep breath to regain his posture, and walked over to greet the next dignitary.

A rather imposing Sunfire Elf then entered the room, flanked by a younger one. They both looked like royalty, so Callum deduced they were from the southern Sunfire Elf kingdom Rayla explained to him earlier.

Callum gave a slight bow out of respect. “King Aurorior of Ignus Alinoria, on behalf of the King Ezran of Katolis, and of the Dragon Queen Zubeia, we welcome you to the Storm Spire.”

The Elf crossed his arms. “King Aurori _on_ of Ign _es_ Alinoria, but I suppose that is the best I am going to get from a _Human_.”

Callum gulped out of embarrassment, and now he started to sweat. _Did I just mess up? Oh Gods, I just messed up. Oh no, what do I-_

“And who might I have the…” the Elf King paused, “’pleasure,’ of speaking to?” It was clear he was being sarcastic at this point.

“Oh, um.” Callum paused, now stuttering. _Oh Gods, now I really messed up._ “Right, I- uhh.” He cleared his throat. “Pr- Prince Callum.” He paused. “Of Katolis. Prince Callum of Katolis.”

“ _Pathetic…_ ” the King mumbled as he moved on.

“Don’t mind my father, he can be rather…” she paused, thinking of a way to describe him nicely, “…difficult.” She then gave a slight curtsy before moving to follow the King of Ignes Alinoria.

Callum then sheepishly walked back over to Rayla and Ezran.

“I’m sorry,” he began, stumbling over his mumbling breath, “I’m so sorry-“

“Callum, it’s okay.” Ezran put a hand on his brother’s arm, who clearly needed reassuring. “I guess I’m bailing you out after all.”

“I’m sorry, Ez…” Callum said, sighing when his brother walked away.

He looked back to see Rayla crossing her arms.

“I don’t need to be worrying about any competition now, do I?” She asked, slightly out of jest, but her tone was somewhat serious.

“What? No! Rayla, I told you at the Oasis before, and I meant it.” He took her folded arms and put them around him, forcing her to hug hi, not caring for what anyone else would say at this point. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“I love you Callum, but we should probably get to our spots, don’t you think?” Her frown broke into a smile, and then she kissed his nose.

“Right, yeah.” He said, leading her to where Katolis was to be designated- right next to Duren.

“Congratulations.” Came a voice to their left. A young one, and it felt heartwarming.

They looked over and saw Queen Aanya smiling.

“Wha- oh, uh… thank you?” Callum began stumbling again, then Rayla shoved his shoulder slightly. “I- I mean, thank you.”

Aanya smiled back. “I’ll want to hear _all_ about it, but later, because I think we’re about to begin.”

“I want to hear ‘all about it,’ too.” Commander Gren said, clearly translating for the General.

Before Callum could have a chance to respond, the voice of the Dragon Queen boomed through the large cavern.

“Greetings, Lords and Ladies, Kings and Queens…” her voice was calm, yet commanding, now that she had had time to process the situation, and had time with her son, who was noticeably absent. “We are gathered here to discuss the terms for peace. A peace, between Humans and Xadia. I do not expect this to be an easy process, or for this to happen overnight- however, I do expect everyone to be cordial with each other while they are in my home.” She paused, looking around the room, making sure that _everyone_ knew she was speaking to them all. “Do I make myself clear?”

“The Kingdom of Duren will abide by this, Queen Zubeia.” Aanya was the first to speak, and bowed to the mighty Dragon Queen out of respect.

“As will the Kingdom of Katolis, your majesty.” Ezran followed suit, bowing as well.

The Sunfire King looked around the room, then stood up and bowed as well. “So will the Kingdom of Ignes Alinoria,” he said, and Callum already forgot his name, “but I must ask- though I do not mean to question your authority- why are we negotiating with the Humans, after everything they have done, to both your kind and mine?” His question was a valid one, though he clearly had to word it more eloquently, to keep in line with Zubeia’s request.

“Because, King Aurorion, the Humans returned my Son to me,” She said simply. _Aurorion, that was his name._

The Sunfire Elf tilted his head in confusion, and seemed quite baffled. “I- I do not mean to rub salt onto an open wound, as they say, your majesty, but your son was… killed… by the Humans, after the Dragonguard fled. How could they possibly-?”

A small tiny roar came from the corner of the room. Zym. He quickly ran over to his mother.

Aurorion’s eyes widened, as did the rest of the Elven entourage. “Is… that…?”

“Yes, Lord of Ignes Alinoria,” a much deeper, grumblier voice said, from the same corner which Zym emerged. Out of the shadows, he presented himself to be a Sun Dragon. “That is the Prince Azymondias, son of our late Liege-Lord King Avizandum, and his wife, our Queen Zubeia.” His voice commanded respect.

_Wait, when did he get in here?_

“He’s been here a while, dummy.” Rayla whispered ever so quietly. Apparently Callum’s inward thoughts must not have been as inward as he hoped.

“One generous act does not nullify the centuries of evils.” Callum turned to see an Earthblood speaking. He didn’t recognize this one.

“No, Lord Tenebrae, it certainly does not,” Zubeia said in reply, “though it is certainly a step forward, wouldn’t you tend to think so?”

“I… suppose it is, your grace,” he said turning towards the Human-side of the negotiations. “Though I must admit, I would like to meet whoever took this perilous journey.”

Rayla, Ezran, and Callum all looked to each other, then rose to their feet in unison.

“Two children, and a Moonshadow?” He started laughing. “I am both surprised, and not, in a way.”

“If you are done gawking, Lord Tenebrae, I suggest we actually _begin_ the negotiations.” The dragon in the back said, now his voice held a sense of command.

“I- uh, yes, Lord Solla Ferum.” He sat back down.

“ _Solla Ferum…?”_ Rayla asked quietly. When Callum went to ask her about the name, she simply told him she would explain later.

“Now, I am going to assume the Earthblood realms also agree to my request,” Zubeia said, commenting on the fact that neither of the Earthblood representatives actually verbally agreed to remain civil, “so, who would like to begin?”

Aanya was the first to step up. “My Lords, my Ladies,” she began. Callum noted that Aanya always seemed to have a way with words, and with crowds. “For too long have Humans and Xadia been at war. Both sides have suffered profusely, and unnecessarily. Today, I believe we are granted with a unique opportunity to halt this, to say ‘no more,’ if you will.” She paused. “Since both sides have suffered terribly and equally, what I propose is a large free-trade agreement between-“

“Forgive me, Queen Aanya,” King Aurorion interrupted, “but I believe there is a bit of a misunderstanding. The Elves clearly have not suffered as harshly as the Humans have, and I believe I can speak for every Elf here when I say-“

“Lux Aurea was destroyed, Aurorion.” A voice came from the back. It was General Janai, and she looked furious. “ _Destroyed_. The city, gone. My sister, murdered. The people, suffering. So no, you do not speak for _every Elf_ , if you were going to say what I think you were going to say.” She turned to the Queen of Duren. “I am interested in listening to what you propose, Queen Aanya.”

Aanya nodded. “Thank you, General Janai.” She paused for a moment, then looked downwards. “And I don’t know if it means anything, but I am sorry about what happened to Lux Aurea.”

“It was not you, young one,” Janai said, trying to lighten the mood. “It was _Viren_.” Callum noticed Rayla shifted uncomfortably at the mention of _his_ name, so he put an arm around her to comfort her.

King Aurorion sat down, and reluctantly agreed to hear out the young Queen as well.

“As I was saying,” Aanya continued, “both Humans and Elves have suffered equally, so if not an open trade agreement, perhaps some understanding that, at the very least those in attendance today, would agree to help each other out in times of need.” She paused again, trying to think of an example. “For instance, the Pentarchy always suffers harsher winters, and with Lux Aurea in its… diminished state, we would be more than happy to provide whatever means we can for it to rebuild to it’s proper, former glory, if we were promised a little in the ways of assistance as well.”

“Then that is something to be worked out between the Humans and Lux Aurea,” the dragon in the corner said. _Solla Ferum,_ Callum thought to himself, _well, at least it’s not Sol Regem._ “Since Ignes Alinoria was untouched, I doubt they’d feel comfortable sharing what they guard so jealously.” The Sun Dragon then looked directly at the Sunfire King. “Though it does not surprise me that Ignes Alinoria seeks to profit from a situation in which they did not participate.”

“I beg your pardon!?” Aurorion shot out from his chair, furious. “I did NOT come here to be insulted, Lord Solla Ferum. I came here because I was _invited_ , and one does not simply just deny the Dragon Queen an audience.”

“That is enough, Solla Ferum.” Zubeia spoke, breaking the tension. She then turned her gaze to the Queen of Duren. “A little tribute of food and supplies every winter is certainly a payment we can accept, as reward for returning my son to me, and if the Humans agree to assist in the rebuilding of Lux Aurea, and the Sun Nexus by extension, then I’m sure that would be a welcome gift.”

Janai nodded. “It would, your grace.” She paused. “However, there remains the question of the Breach itself. Lux Aurea’s military, like the city itself, is by far and large devastated. We have always been tasked with protecting our side of The Border from incursions, and- not that I expect any more, mind you- but I fear we may not be able to continue to do so. I’m afraid what’s left of my forces is the meagre two-hundred at the base of this mountain.”

“There also remains the questionable state of the Breach itself,” Gren said, translating for General Amaya. “When we were still in conflict, I destroyed the one path into Xadia, and yet Lord Viren still managed to find a way to cross his forces unscathed.”

“Yeah… about that…” It was Soren again, and he was scratching his neck. “My dad- err, Lord Viren, he used… magic… to create a way through. I don’t really know if it’s still there, but if it isn’t, that might be an issue.”

An Earthblood crossed his arms. Lord Tenebrae, Callum recalled. Or he thought, anyway. He was having a hard enough time as it is just managing to stay awake. “Your father was the cause of all this?” He scoffed. “I can understand those who helped in returning the Dragon Prince Azymondias being granted entry, but why-“

“Because he is my Crownguard, Lord Tenebrae.” Ezran now. “And when it came down to it, Soren left his father and chose to come here, to defend the Spire.” He looked over to Soren, and nodded, then looked back to the group. “Katolis can focus its attention on the Breach, and if it needs to be repaired, then we will build a bridge if needed to.”

“I suppose Ignes Alinoria can lend a company’s worth of warriors to defend the Xadian side, if it is required.” It seemed that King Aurorion was attempting to help cut the tension, since it could practically be sliced with a knife at this point.

“Excellent,” Zubeia said, a warm smiling coming across her large face. “The Kingdom of Ignes Alinoria will temporarily relieve the Kingdom of Lux Aurea from its guardianship of the Breach while the Human Kingdoms help rebuild it, and in return, Ignes Alinoria and Lux Aurea will provide assistance for the Human Kingdoms during their harsh winters.” She paused, looking around the room. “Will this be sufficient?”

Ezran nudged Callum, nodding to him. “What?’ The Prince-Mage asked quietly, a confused look on his face.

Ezran shook his head, then stood up again. “There is one more thing Katolis would ask.”

“And what would that be, little one?” Solla Ferum asked, now finally emerging from the shadows. His scales were a mix of solid black and crimson red accents, and he bore a similar ‘crown’ to that of Sol Regem, though Solla Ferum was noticeably smaller than the former first Dragon King.

Ezran took a deep breath. “It is widely known Humans were originally expelled from Xadia for their- _our_ , use of Dark Magic.” The Elves in the room all started to get defensive, and Ezran moved his hands to plead for them to just listen. “Recent events have shown us, me specifically, that Humans now no longer need to rely on such a practice. If a few Elves wished to come to the Kingdoms and teach-“

One of the Earthblood nobles started to laugh, though he died it down a notch when he drew an angry gaze from the King of Katolis. “I don’t mean to be rude, King Ezran, but you can’t possibly expect us to believe a Human can-“

“ _Aspiro!_ ”

A cold wind blew across the Elven delegates, who were now struggling to keep their jaws from hitting the floor.

Feeling accomplished, Callum crossed his arms in victory. “Yeah, that’s right, I connected to the Sky Arcanum.” His boast was loud, but the sound of a dragon smelling him was even louder.

“And how did you accomplish such a feat, I wonder?” Solla Ferum asked, and with a hint of hostility in his tone. He _knew_. He smelled _it_ on him.

“Oh, uhh, you know, the usual,” Callum said, beginning to fumble over his own words. _Please don’t talk about this, please don’t talk about this_ , he started going over in his head. He looked over to Rayla, who was just as fearful as him.

“No, I am afraid I do not know ‘the usual.’” The Sun Dragon was now getting angry. “I believe you will have to explain it to us,” he paused, taking another sniff of Callum, “before _I_ do.”

Callum took a deep breath, and gulped nervously. “Look, what would you have done? A dragon was about to die, _Rayla_ was about to die! I couldn’t just sit back and-“

“LIES!” Solla Ferum’s voice now boomed throughout the hall, in front of everyone. “You DARE defile this sacred ground with your _FILTH_?! I can smell it on you.”

A few of the Elves jumped to their feet, some drawing their weapons. Likewise, the Humans from Katolis in attendance moved to get into a defensive stance to protect their prince.

“And I smelled it on him, too.”

Everyone looked over to Zubeia, who now stood upright and got directly into Solla Ferum’s face.

“I smelled it on him as soon as I woke up,” the Dragon Queen began to explain, “but if you take a moment to analyze, you will notice it is just a faint amount.” She paused, seeing the tension in the room. “Perhaps it be best to continue the negotiations tomorrow. We have gotten so far already, just for it to get ruined by the actions of one overzealous Sun Dragon.” She paused, then turned back to Solla Ferum. “You are _just_ like your brother.”

Soren was the first to sheathe his bastard sword, though he was still ready to spring into action. He moved in front of Callum, Ezran, and Rayla, and soon the delegation retreated to their separate ways, for the time being.

| - | - | - | - | - |

“Come on, Captain, you can do better than _that_!”

The Crown Prince was in a sparring room, surrounded by a few others who were on their down time, fighting against Captain Asbjorn.

The Captain got up from the ground and reassumed his defensive stance, and if he had his comrades, it would have been an extremely tight shield-wall.

“If you insist, my Lord.” The Captain said, chuckling slightly.

“Don’t hold back, or I’ll take it out of your pay.” Baldur laughed, then assumed a similar stance, though he held his blunt shortsword in an icepick grip.

Asbjorn then rushed the Prince head on, and a ‘Clash of Shields’ began, which was a Del Barren saying for when two warriors were using their full body weight to push into the other, and usually a stalemate formed.

It had been a few hours since his grandfather’s procession, and Baldur needed to clear his head. Usually, he would take a walk around the Palace, but those adventures were usually accompanied by the late King Florian, so that was out of the question. Instead, he figured he’d train his combat prowess. Fighting usually solved most things, anyway.

Usually.

The Clash of Shields was a complete standstill, and in fact it drew the gaze of some of the off duty Clansmen and women who were in the pit as well, who then moved to form a circle around the two warriors.

“Come on, Captain,” Baldur said, “let’s give them a show, eh?”

Asbjorn grinned. “You’re on.”

At almost the same time, they gave one last push and threw each other backwards.

Baldur was the first to strike, this time, rushing forward, head held low with shield held high, then swept sideways with his reverse-gripped blade.

Captain Asbjorn managed to move his shield to intercept the coming blow at the last second, and then out of reaction moved to punch the face of Baldur with his pommel, landing the blow, and sending the Prince straight to the ground.

“My Lord!” He quickly exclaimed, moving to help the Prince up.

Baldur laughed, then turned down the help. “You sure you want that pay reduction?” He asked, grinning. When he said ‘don’t hold back,’ he clearly meant it.

Reassuming a defensive stance, the Captain laughed. “No, I suppose I don’t.” When Baldur was back on his feet, wiping a bit of blood off of his eyebrow, the Captain lunged forward, thrusting with his blade.

Baldur parried it upwards then followed with a leftward strike, which was met with another shield block.

They kept exchanging blows for a solid couple of minutes before it just ended up into yet another Clash of Shields.

“So much for a show, eh, my Lord?” Asbjorn asked, laughing.

Baldur chuckled, having something up his sleeve. “Oh, I think I’ve got just the thing for that.” He quickly moved his sword to another reverse grip, then shifted his shield ever so slightly to the left to throw the Captain off balance.

He then used his blade to hook the Captain’s foot, sending him forward down onto his face. Baldur quickly then followed up by a downward thrust, and landed his blade just inches shy of the Captain’s neck.

Smiling, he moved his sword to his other hand, now holding both it and his round shield, and extended an arm to help the Captain to his feet.

“And who taught you _that_ , my Lord?” Asbjorn asked, resigning the fight to Baldur.

“My Father.” The Prince said simply in reply.

“Oh, I- I’m sorry, my Lord.”

“What? Oh, no. Don’t be.” Baldur patted the Captain’s shoulder.

The Captain was both older and larger than Baldur, who was a man merely of 16 years, as opposed to the Captain’s 28.

“Having fun?” A female voice said, chuckling. Baldur turned to see a woman wielding both an axe and a sword.

“Oh, uhh. Yeah!” Baldur paused, struggling to find the words to fill the awkward silence. “Care to join us, Briagé?”

“Maybe some other time? I was just finishing up.” She smiled.

“Wait, you were here the _whole_ time?” Baldur now looked concerned, maybe even flustered.

“Yep. You handle yourself well. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” Now she was toying with him.

“I’ll, uhh, hold you to that!” He said as she walked off. “The spar, I mean!” He felt a slight punch on his shoulder, and turned to see the Captain slightly laughing at him.

“Maybe I _will_ take it out of this week’s pay, just for that.” Baldur laughed, getting ready to charge at the Captain again. “Now come on, I didn’t even break a sweat!”

| - | - | - | - | - |

“Oh _Gods_ , I screwed it up. I screwed it _all_ up!” Callum sat on the side of his bed, panicking as he rested his head on his palms. He felt a light, soothing hand rub up and down his back, and his breathing seemed to steady.

“You were fine, Callum,” Rayla said trying his best to sooth him. “Everything’s going to be _fine_.”

“No!” He shouted, tears starting to form in his eyes. “All I ever _do_ is just screw things up! I screwed up when I used dark magic, I screwed up with those ambassadors,”

“Callum…”

“I screwed up at the most important meeting in all of Xadia,”

“Callum!”

“I- I screwed up at the Oasis, I-“

“Callum!” Rayla was shouting now. “ _Shut up!_ ”

“Wh- what…?” He saw the look of disappointment in Rayla’s eyes, and that was enough to get him to start crying.

Again.

“Callum, listen to me.” Rayla felt it was wrong to snap at him, but she probably would never have gotten his attention if she hadn’t. “You’re not a screw up, Callum. You just…” she paused, trying to think of a way to word it very carefully, “don’t do so well under pressure?” Seeing that did not do much to soothe him, she cupped his face in both her hands and pecked a kiss on his forehead. “Callum, listen to me, okay? You are so _good_. You remember everything I said to Sol Regem about you?”

Callum silently nodded his head.

“I meant it, all of it. And I still do.” Rayla smiled as her prince leaned in to rest his head on her chest, and she went to embrace him. “You’re kind, and true, and brave.” She planted another kiss on the top of his head. “And you’re my friend. And I love you.”

A mumbled voice came from Callum, vaguely resembling something along the lines of ‘I love you too.’

“You feeling better, now?” She asked quietly. Callum pulled away when he gave another silent nod, and she wiped some of the left over tears from his eyes. “Now go wash up. I think your Aunt still wants to talk to us about… well, _us_.”

Callum walked over to the small washbasin in the room and splashed himself with some of the cold water. It was more on the freezing side, due to the fact that they were so high up, but it just served to snap him back to his senses even more.

“You ready?” Rayla asked, wrapping her arms around Callum’s right arm.

“Yeah.” He gave her a rather not-so-reassuring look and a half-assed smile, then took her hand. “Let’s go find my Aunt.”

They didn’t have to go far to find the General, as she in fact had been looking for them as well, so they all went to a separate room, just the four of them. Even though Callum could easily translate, they didn’t feel like leaving Gren out of the ordeal, since Amaya tended to regard him as a little brother of her own.

“So,” Amaya said, with the commander translating, “who wants to start first?”

“Well, maybe you should?” Rayla said, almost a bit scared. She took a deep breath. “Nothing held back.”

“Am I safe to assume there is… something between you two?” Amaya asked. She didn’t look angry like she had before, rather just inquisitive.

Callum looked nervous though. He didn’t know how his aunt would react, and he was scared of the outcome he had a feeling was going to happen. Before he could answer, though, he felt a four-fingered hand reach for his.

“Yes.” Rayla said simply, looking Callum in the eye. “I know our first introduction to each other wasn’t… the best, but I love him.” Gulping nervously, she then turned to look the General in the eye. “And I wouldn’t be here without him.”

Amaya smiled slighty after Gren had finished signing for her, though in fact she was already smiling when the Elf went to hold her niece’s hand. “I know our own first introduction wasn’t necessarily ideal, either,” she began, “and I won’t apologize for trying to protect my nephews, but I do apologize for calling you a monster, if that makes up for anything.”

Callum’s eyes widened. _Well, this is going better than I thought._

Amaya then turned to the prince. “And Callum, do you love her as well, as she claims to love you?”

Callum took a deep breath, squeezing Rayla’s hand for comfort. “Yes, yes I do,” he said, somewhat closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, then mustered up some courage. “I… I jumped off this mountain for her, and I would do it again.”

Rayla’s expression changed to that one mixed with awe and fear. “Let’s just promise each other it never comes to that, okay?”

Callum hadn’t even seen his aunt’s face yet, because he turned straight to Rayla when she began talking. Giving her a slight nod, he returned his gaze to Amaya, who was in almost complete shock.

Callum then had a look of defiance on his face, though it wasn’t for ill intent. “I love her, Aunt Amaya, and… and I don’t care what anyone says.”

“Well, I can see you two care for each other quite a bit,” the General was saying, and Callum could sense a Motherly-type-advice speech coming on, “so I have no right to stand between that. It will, however, still take some getting used to, and I’m sure you both can understand my… _reservations_.” When she signed the last word, she was looking directly at Rayla.

After Gren finished translating, Rayla looked down to the side in shame, and scratched her head. She knew what the General was referring about.

“But,” Gren translated, “if you two make each other happy, then I am also happy. For the both of you.”

Callum and Rayla shot a look of surprise to Amaya, then to each other, then back to Amaya. “Wait, you are?” Callum asked. This surely wasn’t the outcome he’d expected.

“I am.” She said, a smile growing wide on her face. “But I still expect the both of you to act accordingly, and with respect for those around you. Do you understand?” Now she was back to the usual stern self she was.

Callum nodded. “Yeah, of course. Of course we do.”

“I’m being serious, nephew,” she cut in. “You must realize you are still both kids. Older teenagers, but still just kids in my eyes. And you are in the infatuation stage, and you know that it will wear off…”

_Aaaand here was the speech._

“After it does, you will have fights. You might even hate each other’s guts at some point. There will be downs, but there will also be _ups_.” She then looked directly at Rayla. “And if you even so much as hurt him, I will not hesitate to-“ Gren paused, cutting himself off. “Okay, I’m not translating that.”

“I- I think I get the picture.” Rayla said rather nervously. “But, I swear on my honor I will never hurt Callum.” She then looked to Callum. “Intentionally. I feel like I might, and if I do, I’m sorry, but know I won’t _mean_ it.”

Callum then gave a wide smile. “I know. Same goes for me.”

“Well, I believe that about wraps this up, then,” Amaya signed as she stood up. “I am happy, genuinely, for you, but it’s still going to take some time to get used to the idea.” She then grinned. “I still remember when you were younger than Ezran is now, fumbling around with a sword that you had no idea how to use.”

“ _Still_ have no idea how to use,” Callum added a correction, and one he seemed oddly proud of, even if it made Rayla a bit disheartened. When he tilted his head in confusion, she told him she wanted to talk about it later.

“I suggest you two prepare yourself for the rest of the negotiations tomorrow,” Gren translated, “things will only get tougher from here.” As the General was about to walk out, she turned around again. “And I _do_ expect the original sleeping arrangements to be honored, and without any stunts like what was pulled last night.”

Callum and Rayla both immediately blushed out of shame.

“But given the nature of what warranted it, I’m willing to let it slide this once.” She paused, then looked the both of them over very sternly. “I won’t do so again.” She and the commander then walked out, and Callum thought he caught a glimpse of Gren giving the two of them a sort of ‘thumbs-up.’

Rayla sighed heavily then slunk back in the wooden chair. “Well, that could’ve gone worse, don’t you think?”

Callum chuckled. “At least I didn’t have to explain my complete brain fart back at the Oasis.”

“Yeah, but…” she paused, something was on her mind. “I just keep thinking if I didn’t rip into you for-“

“Rayla, it’s _fine_ , you know how my brain works.” He then moved to sit facing her. “You literally broke my brain; I didn’t know what to do.”

She sighed again. “Well, yeah, but I still shouldn’t have threatened-“

“Rayla, really, it’s fine, I promise.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Now come on, I’m hungry, and I have to grab some of Barius’ jelly tarts before Ezran and Bait steal them all!” He got up and pulled Rayla to her feet, almost dragging her to the kitchen, both just laughing together the whole way there.

| - | - | - | - | - |

“I… I don’t think it’s a _little_ bug pal, anymore…” Claudia said with a hint of terror on her voice, as the carapaced hand poked its way through the magical cocoon.

Viren stood defensively, ready to protect his daughter. “I’m not sure it is even a _bug pal_ at all, anymore.”

It took a few minutes for the creature to fully emerge, but when it did, Viren and Claudia could witness it in all its horrifying glory. It permeated a dark purple and black mist, almost like a haze or a fog, and seemed to have small, glowing white dots throughout itself. Furthermore, it seemed to take on a humanoid form. However, there were plenty of purple chitin plates being held together by _something_ , though what, Viren could not tell. This creature was almost ethereal in form, not unlike the shades he sent after each of the Pentarchy’s four remaining monarchs, if it weren’t for the crustacean-like armor, though it had two, beady red eyes protruding through its smog, and a crown-like appearance of hard scales on top of its head.

Its right hand more closely resembled a normal hand, as opposed to the small and long claw-like appendage it boasted on its left. The claw itself came to a fine point, but had a powerful pincher at the bottom, which looked as if it could crunch down several times its own weight.

“Greetings…”

Its voice was ominous, dark, yet… _soothing_ , but Viren recognized it from anywhere.

“Aaravos.” The Dark Mage replied, still defensive.

“Viren, my friend,” the creature began, almost in a mockingly-offended tone, “why the hostility? My only goal is to… _serve you_.” It paused, and took a slight bow. “And now in this form, I can better serve you.”

“Right,” Viren said, turning to his daughter, “Claudia, would you leave us, for but a moment?”

“Uhh, yeah…” she said, rather unconvinced. “Sure thing, dad.”

Viren put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I will join you shortly.” She nodded, then slowly walked out of the room, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“And how are you feeling, Lord Viren,” the creature asked, “I trust you… didn’t have too rough of a landing?”

“Apparently I did not…” Viren admitted. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Anger? He was in this situation _because_ of Aaravos, after all. Regret? His daughter went through a lot, and now his family was torn more than it was before. Thankful? He did have his daughter to thank, after all, for bringing him back.

She did, bring him _back_. He was _dead_ , and now he _wasn’t_. Confusion was probably the biggest thing he was feeling.

“Did you… have a nice ‘nap’?” Viren’s question was the same mocking tone in which Aaravos had asked him about his ‘fall.’

The ‘form,’ as it described itself before, simply chuckled. “I assume we have your daughter to thank for the conversation we are having Lord Viren?” He paused, looking around the room. There were a few corpses, the most notable being the late King Asbjorn of Del Bar. “She _is_ proving to be quite the asset.”

“She is more than just an _asset_ , Aaravos!” Viren snapped. How dare this… this _thing_ talk about his daughter in such a manner?

“Ahh yes, my apologies.” Aaravos’ host bowed. “But we do have things to discuss, do we not?”

“Like what? We lost- _I_ lost. Everything. Don’t you understand?” He was furious now, pointing an accusatory finger at the ghostly apparition. “We’re in this mess because of _you_!”

“Yes… you are…” Aaravos crossed his ethereal arms. “But, once you hit rock bottom, you can only go up.”

Viren wasn’t quite sure what to make of the comment. Did he say ‘rock bottom’ to poke at him?

“Then… what do you propose?” Viren asked cautiously. He was lost, weary, and still just utterly _confused_.

“We start with one thing at a time.” The creature said, holding out both of its… ‘arms.’ “We start with _revenge_.” The purple and black mist that made up its face contorted, almost that of a grin, as it began chanting a spell, drawing raw magic from the remnants of the silky cocoon it birthed itself from.

**_“Ereh su thguorb ohw esoht llik ot, evarg eht morf uoy llac I!”_ **

The corpses in the room began to twitch, and Viren staggered back. He watched in horror as they began spazzing about, as if they were almost _possessed_. Then in one final act of depravity, purple and black mist, not unlike what the host of Aaravos was made up, began to… _claw_ its way out of the six corpses within the room. Soon enough, Viren was face-to-‘face’ with almost perfect replicas of the men and women that lay across the room, though now the corpses looked noticeably drained, devoid of any and all life- they looked like what a Dark Mage would look like after a particularly taxing spell, only _more_ drained.

Horrified when these apparitions turned their deathly gaze to the fallen mage, Viren almost _ran_ out of the room, where he met Claudia conversing with some of the ‘Blessed,’ as the remaining dark magic-infused soldiers now began to call themselves.

“Dad?” Claudia asked, concerned with the look of sheer terror on his face. “You okay? You look live you’ve just seen a _ghost._ ”

Viren gulped nervously.

“I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SOOOO MUCH for your kudos and comments! When I posted this, I had absolutely no idea this would be as well received as it was! Thank you!
> 
> I was originally planning to have this chapter up earlier, but I kind of got distracted between my university studies and playing some Total War: Warhammer 2... haha! :D
> 
> So, some things about the chapter (spoilers!):  
> -Even though he's such a minor character, I kind of like Marcos, so I decided to give him one segment of own, at least for now. Not sure if I'll do anymore, but this scene at least goes to show there is at least some consequences for the Battle, and that not everyone got away scot-free. If you want to see more of him like this, let me know!  
> -With the peace talks, I can't expect everyone will be just sunshine and rainbows. I tried to reflect, though I'm not sure how well I did it.   
> -Baldur's fight scene was as much training for him as it was for me, since I'm not really sure how to conduct fight scenes.  
> -The next scene between Rayla and Callum, and later adding in Amaya and Gren, was a bit difficult. I feel like I went a little bit against Callum's character, but at the same time he, and by extension Rayla (and also Ezran) have been through a metric shit ton together, and haven't really had the chance to unwind. I can sort of imagine that everything's now coming to a head, and that Callum reached his breaking point, but still not sure how well I did.  
> -Now: Aaravos. I had such a hard time trying to figure out the direction I wanted to go, but now my mind is set. I've not seen many give Aaravos' host-creature-thingy a humanoid appearance, so I challenged myself to do just that. If you're having a bit of trouble imagining what he looks like (which is understandable because I'm not sure how well I described it), picture one of Viren's elf assassin shades, but with purple chitin armor and a claw, and with the star-like things on Aaravos when we see him in the mirror.
> 
> If you have any ideas on what I should do next, please leave some comments! I'm always open to ideas!
> 
> \-----  
> Posted: 20 Sep 2020


	4. Together, or Not at All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politicking in the Storm Spire, and plotting in the Hinterpeak.  
> Callum and Rayla enjoy some alone time, and begin a heartfelt conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Language Warning]  
> [Suggestive Themes Warning]

| - | - | - | - | - |

Four days following the Battle of the Storm Spire

It was late afternoon, and the large cavernous hall was full once more. Representatives from both Duren and Katolis lined the far left, while those from the various Elven nations in attendance dotted the far right. In the center, resting in her nest, was the Dragon Queen Zubeia, along with her son, Prince Azymondias.

Lurking in the shadows was the ever-vigilant Solla Ferum- a particular Sun Dragon whom Rayla has still yet to tell Callum about, even though she said she would.

The Mage-Prince in question was snapped back to reality, out of the spiral of his own mind, when he heard the Dragon Queen speak up to begin the second round of negotiations.

“Are we all in attendance?” The Dragon Queen asked, her voice as calming and regal as ever.

“I believe so, your grace.” Ibis. He was absent from the delegations yesterday, and Callum didn’t know why, but it was probably important.

 _What could be more important than this?_ That wasn’t really important now, all that mattered was that he was here now.

“Prince Callum?” Snapped back to reality again. _Damn, I really need to stop spiral-_

“Prince Callum!” He finally looked up to see the southern Sunfire Elf king standing up, arms crossed, and addressing him.

“What? Yeah, sorry,” he replied, somewhat stumbling to form a coherent sentence. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“What?” King Aurorion asked, confused. “Were you even listening?”

The prince’s eyes widened. “What? Yeah, of course! Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Then what were we talking about?”

Oh _shit_. Rayla was about to whisper in his ear before Solla Ferun spoke up.

“We were discussing your… ‘magical affinity,’ Prince Callum” The dragon paused, emerging his head out of the shadows. “We wished to inquire about the full story,” he then turned his head towards Zubeia, “and we gave our word to our Queen that we would not… ‘discriminate.’”

Callum cleared his throat. “Uhh, right, so, uh…” he stopped, collecting himself. It would probably be best to stand up for a story like this. “So, we were a day or so away from the Border, on the Katolian side, when we see a dragon setting fire to a town. I think her name was Pyrrah? Anyway, she gets shot down, and Rayla wants to go save her. I- uhh…” he started to scratch the back of his neck, which was a nervous tick of his, “and I try to talk her out of it. Then she kinda says something that just makes me relent.”

“I would believe it still be her own choice,” the sun dragon began. “But, what did she say that changed your mind?”

Callum looked back to Rayla to see if she wanted to tell the delegation, but she quickly shook her head no and motioned for him to do that instead. _Well, I guess public speaking isn’t really her thing, then. Or mine, for that matter._

“Well, it’s something I once told her, back when we first met. That when one person hurts another, that person hurts them back- it just becomes a cycle that never ends.” Callum’s words seemed to draw the attentive gaze of the room, more so than he would have liked, but he would finish nonetheless. “And that to break that cycle, someone has to take a stand.”

“Wise words indeed, young prince.” Solla Ferum replied. _Wait, did he just approve of something?_ “But this still does not explain how you, a Human, managed to forge a connection to an Arcanum.”

“Right, yeah, I was getting to that, sorry.” Again, he found his hand at the back of his neck. “Anyway, she gets down there and tries to free the dragon, but the chains are too heavy, and then some…” he paused, looking over to Soren. He would rather leave Soren out of this, since there was already a great deal of hostility directed towards him just by virtue of being Viren’s son. “…some _soldiers_ come along and start beating up on Rayla. Then Claudia was about to-“

“Claudia?” An Earthblood lord interrupted him. Callum just stared at him for a second, trying to remember his name, but couldn’t. _Man, I’m getting really bad with names._

His attention was directed to another Earthblood Elf. “Yes, who is Claudia? We don’t mean to interrupt, but we would like context.”

“My sister.”

The room’s denizens darted their attention toward Soren, who had just stood straight up from leaning on the far end of the wall. “Claudia was my sister.” He had a look of acceptance on his face, and of content.

Callum, on the other hand, was visibly shaking his head to try and prevent Soren from going any further.

“And why was your sister there? Attacking Pyrrah?” Solla Ferum was now fully out of the shadows, but was not entirely hostile.

Yet.

Soren sighed, and resigned himself to tell the truth. “Because I was there too. It was because of me that- Pyrrah, right? That was her name? Well, I’m the one who attacked the dragon. She was in that position because of me.”

There was a mix of emotions coming from the Elven side of the room. Callum could see some wanted justice, others were just confused.

Callum quietly walked up to Soren. “Why? I was trying to leave-“

“I know, Callum,” Soren said, shrugging his shoulders. “But it’s like you just said, right? If you want things to change, you gotta take a stand.”

Before Callum could respond, Zubeia broke the inward recess. “Thank you for your honesty, Ser Soren.” She then turned back to Callum. “Please, continue with your story, young prince.”

Callum cleared his throat again, noting it went better than he expected. That seemed to be happening quite a bit. _No, can’t think like that. I might jinx it._ “Right, well, Claudia was about to, well,” he paused, getting rather uncomfortable at the thought of admitting, especially in front of Rayla, that Claudia was going to use both her and the dragon for _parts_ , so he had to find a way to sugarcoat it. “She was gonna do… _things_ , to them. To Rayla and Pyrrah, so I just couldn’t let that happen.”

“So, you followed Rayla, then?” King Aurorion this time. “After you were clear you didn’t approve of her mission?”

“Well, it wasn’t her _mission_ , I’d say,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “rather just something she felt she had to do. That it was the _right_ thing to do.” He paused, taking a deep breath, and then looked back to Rayla, who was sitting down just looking at him, admiring him. “But yeah, I did follow her. She had her right thing to do, and I had _my_ right thing to do.” He turned back to the rest of the attendants. “I wasn’t just going to let her die. I couldn’t.”

“Was this before, or after, you two pronounced for each other?” Callum tilted his head in confusion at the Sun Dragon’s question, so Solla Ferum went further. “We are correct in assuming there is a certain… ‘connection,’ between the two of you, yes?”

“Solla Ferum, that is uncalled for.” Zubeia rose to their defense. “Even if it were so, it is not your prerogative to investigate that. One thing at a time.” She then turned to Callum and urged him to continue.

Callum turned to Rayla, who seemed to already know his question, so she gave him a smiling nod. With that, Callum turned to the Sun Dragon. “To answer your question, it was before.” He paused when he heard whispering amongst everyone in the room, not just the Elves, though it was quickly silenced by the Dragon Queen. “But yeah, they were both just _there_ , about to _die_ , so I… kinda just grabbed one of Claudia’s slug-looking-thingies and did a spell I remember her using, to turn the chains into snakes. It was enough to free Pyrrah, and the distraction was enough for Rayla to get far enough away.” He paused, then caught himself when he found his hand reaching for the back of his neck once more. “Everything kind of just went… black, after that. Next thing I remember, besides my weird dream, was waking up in a cave, with…” he stopped, then turned to Rayla. “With Rayla clinging onto me for dear life. Then I tried using the Aspiro spell, and it worked.”

“Yeah, because ye’ almost _died_ , dummy.” Rayla said in a mocking tone, but there was still a hint of worry in her voice. Her tone only saddened as she continued. “Don’ye get that? Ye’ almost _died_ , Callum. I watched ye’, and I couldn’t do anything. I watched ye’… stop _breathin’_.” Now _she_ had her hand at the back of her neck. “Ye’ wenn on te go save _my_ life, and almost get _yerself_ killed in the process.”

Callum’s frown was broken when his attention was stolen by Solla Ferum again. “This ‘dream.’ Do you remember much of it? What did you experience?”

“Well, the strange thing is, I remember _all_ of it. That’s just how my brain works, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I see stuff, and I just remember it.” Seeing he still did not fully answer the dragon’s question, he went on to elaborate. “First I was presented with a dark version of myself, telling me that dark magic was my destiny. I can’t lie, I was tempted. I almost took it.” He paused, expecting a reaction, but when he didn’t get one, he continued. “Then I saw my step-dad, saying that destiny was a lie, and to reject the chains of history. Then I denied the dark-me, and it crumbled apart.”

“Reject the chains of history?” Zubeia asked, inquiring about the statement. “I rather like that.”

“Yeah, it was one of the last things my step-dad wrote to me, before he…” Callum’s mood darkened, and he heard a shuffling behind him. Before he knew it, a four-fingered hand intertwined with his. “Before he died.”

“We will not tax you further, young prince.” The Dragon Queen looked around the room, but turned her attention back to Callum. “While dark magic is inherently evil and vile, your intentions were noble. To save the one you love.”

Callum and Rayla blushed, and broke apart. “What? No, we weren’t, uhh… a ‘thing,’ then.”

“Even so, it was still _dark magic_.” Solla Ferum interjected. _Oh Gods, what did he have to say?_

“Your point, Lord Solla Ferum?” Now Zubeia’s nerves were starting to get itched.

“I would assume it be that the Prince get Purified.” King Aurorion was standing, then turned to Callum. “Which is also what I would suggest, as well.”

Callum looked confused, though Rayla seemed to know what it meant, judging by the fact that she was clinging onto his arm as if her life depended on it.

“King Aurorion,” a shocked voice called. General Janai. “Do you not remember a _single thing_ from yesterday? Lux Aurea is a husk of its former self. The Nexus is _corrupted_! To attempt a Purification now would at the very _least_ kill him!”

Aurorion simply scoffed. “You make that sound like a bad thing,” he mumbled under his breath.

Zubeia now turned hostile. “You will mind yourself in my home, or you will leave. The choice is yours, King Aurorion.”

“Then until he is Purified, he should not be permitted to return to Xadia, after the negotiations.” Solla Ferum now, and his voice was stern. There seemed to be a general agreeance amongst the Elven dignitaries.

Callum’s heart sank. _Not return to Xadia? How will I learn magic?!_

Zubeia sighed, then seemed to resign herself. “I must apologize, Prince Callum, but I fear you may have to resign this battle for the good of the delegation.”

“But, I connected to an Arcanum! How can I learn magic?” Callum’s voice pitched higher than usual.

“You did connect to an Arcanum, yes,” Solla Ferum began to explain, “but until that taint within you is extinguished, I cannot in good conscious teach you our secrets.” He rested himself back into the shadows. “Do not mistake me, it is an _extraordinary_ feat that you have accomplished: the first Human to connect to a primal source. You should truly feel honored-“

“I thought Zubeia was your queen?” Callum was now almost offended as he cut off the dragon. “Since when do _you_ make the decisions?”

As quickly as he resigned himself to his corner, he emerged from it once more, his crimson-red scales beginning to glow with an all-too-familiar orange light. “Since I was appointed the _Regent_ , in Prince Azymondias’ stead, until he grows of age.” Now his voice was hostile, and also defensive. “You would do well to mind your tongue, lest you lose it.”

“ _Enough,_ Lord Solla Ferum.” Zubeia rushed to Callum’s defense. He was comforted by the fact that Zubeia was on his side, but he was still disheartened by the fact he was forbidden from learning magic until the Sun Nexus was purified. And how long would that take? A year? Maybe two? If it could even be repaired _at all_.

_Well, I wasn’t forbidden… No! I can’t think like that._

Callum simply bowed then resigned himself to sit back down, Rayla still clinging on to him when it was mentioned he should be purified. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

“There will be one more thing.” Solla Ferum now looked at Rayla, and Callum could tell she felt scared, fighting herself to not simply hide behind Callum.

“Yes, Lord Solla Ferum?” Her nervous tone betrayed the tough-act persona she attempted to carry, which Callum immediately saw right through.

“Do not be afraid, little one. What I have to say might interest you.” With that, she calmed down, and so did Callum. He still didn’t stop rubbing her back, however. “You were the one who killed Lord Viren, were you not? Avenged the late King Avizandum?”

 _Avenged_. Callum didn’t like that word. He knew revenge was wrong, but Thunder still took his mother away from him. Away from Ezran.

When Rayla didn’t respond, the Sun Dragon continued. “You have shown courage expected far beyond one of your stature, and of your occupation. Your service has not gone unnoticed, so we would name you Rayla of Xadia, by royal decree, and offer you a place here, at the Storm Spire, to rebuild our once illustrious Dragon Guard.”

Rayla’s face lit up, with happiness, yes, but mostly _conflict_. Even her ears perked with confusion as she looked to Callum, then to the floor, then back to Callum, and then to Solla Ferum, all the while not saying a word.

“That is, unless, you would prefer to live with the _Human_.”

 _That_ had struck a nerve, in both Rayla and Callum, and the prince had felt her fist close tightly as she squeezed on his hand without mercy. It _really_ got to her, but then a calm demeanor washed over her, and then back to confusion.

“I- I…” she stumbled, failing to get anything coherent out. “I dunno.” She finally admitted, with Callum consoling her. She looked back to the Sun Dragon. “Can I… can I think about it?”

“You will have until tomorrow morning, which is when the Humans will be expected to leave.” His voice was firm, though it probably would have been useful to know that little detail earlier.

“Lord Solla Ferum,” Aanya jolted in, standing up. Callum figured she would. “It may only be the early afternoon now, but I believe that information would have been prudent to know, lest I would not have had my forces pitch camp. They just settled in, it might take a little longer to get everything ready.” That much was a fact- logistical management was _always_ a nightmare, he heard it enough from his Aunt, but Callum knew Aanya was trying to buy Rayla more time as well, because she, too, could sense Rayla’s inward battle.

 _An inward battle,_ Callum thought to himself, _it’s a lot to ask her to abandon her home, but I was also banned from Xadia until I was ‘purified,’ or whatever that meant._

“Tomorrow afternoon,” is all the sun dragon would growl.

“Well,” Zubeia now spoke, once more forced to break the tension wrought on by the not-so-popular Dragon-Regent, “I believe it is time to go over the terms of the _official_ treaty?”

After there was a general agreeance among the parties, the Dragon Queen continued. “The Elven Nations of Xadia will provide assistance to the Human Pentarchy during their winters, and be open to trade negotiations, in assistance for the rebuilding of the great city of Lux Aurea as well as the Breach, and in the meantime, the Kingdom of Ignes Alinoria will supply a small garrison to the Xadian side of the Border. Furthermore, the Pentarchy will give up any and all practices of dark magic, and should more Humans connect to any Arcana, they will be selected to undergo a training regimen if deemed worthy.”

“The Kingdom of Duren agrees to these terms, your highness.” Aanya bowed after speaking.

“As does the Kingdom of Katolis,” Ezran followed, likewise bowing.

“The Kingdom of Ignes Alinoria likewise agrees, began King Aurorion, “and you can expect us to send none-other than our best.”

“The Kingdom of Umber Tor will honor this treaty.”

“As will the Kingdom of the Drakewood.”

Zubeia smiled. “Then it is decided. As of today, the First Treaty of the Storm Spire shall now be in effect.” She turned to the Skywing mage to her right. “Ibis, fetch us a pen, and some good parchment?”

He bowed respectfully. “Your wish is my command, your Majesty.” In short order, he left to his chambers to acquire the necessary items. He returned, and began writing down the official terms of the treaty. Callum noted he wrote slowly, likely as to not misspell any word, or make any mistakes.

At the end, Ibis would finish:

_‘The terms of this treaty will hereby declare peace between the Realms of Men and the Nations of Xadia.’_

The Skywing would then sign on behalf of Queen Zubeia and King Regent Solla Ferum, and promptly turn the paper around to administer the signing of the treaty. One by one, the monarchs and representatives would sign their names.

_Lord Terrier Gallos, representing Lord Ferion Umbros King Under the Mountain, of the Kingdom of Umber Tor._

_Lord Tenebrae Hallegarreon, representing Lord Harkon Fells of Drake, of the Kingdom of the Drakewood._

_Lord Aurorion Coruscare, King of Ignes Alinoria, Protector of the Southern Coast, representing himself, of the Kingdom of Ignes Alinoria._

_Queen Aanya of Duren, representing herself, of the Kingdom of Duren._

_King Ezran of Katolis, representing himself, of the Kingdom of Katolis._

And just like that, it was _done_.

“Today, we have made history,” Solla Ferum began. He cleared his throat, and the attention of the room was now fully towards him. “And tonight, we feast. In celebration, and in good faith. Until then, I bid you all a good afternoon.”

A lot of the nobility bowed, and when Callum turned to look for Rayla, he could not find her.

| - | - | - | - | - |

‘So, what do you make of all this?’ Amaya was sitting back in her chair, signing for Commander Gren to translate.

“Well, we’re definitely a lot better off than we were a few days ago…” Ezran sighed of relief. “But the problem will be convincing the rest of the Pentarchy.”

Aanya rested her arms on the table. “Yes, that will surely be an uphill battle.” She paused, her face looking downed. “One I’m not convinced we’d be able to win.”

“We just have to show them the fruits of our labor. Show them there are alternatives to war, alternatives to dark magic.” The young boy-king of Katolis fumbled through his hair. “I mean, if Callum can connect, others can too, right?”

“Yeah, but, Viren’s still out there. _Somewhere_.” Soren said, however he was distracted, confused.

“Ser Soren,” Aanya began, looking concerned, “I know it pains you that we could not discover your father’s body, nor any trace of your sister, but right now two kingdoms just accepted a document on behalf of _five_.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s rough.” He cleared his throat, regaining himself. “We at least have… _something_ … to give back to Noodloodlia, but King Asbjorn hasn’t been seen anywhere.”

Ezran sighed, knowing it better than to try to correct his Crownguard.

“I am not sure Crown Prince Kasef’s ‘state’ will be all convincing to the acting Regent, nor will King Asbjorn’s disappearance.” Aanya frowned. The situation was dire, even now. “Evenere was the least affected out of Viren’s army, relatively speaking, but Neolandia will not take kindly to find Durenese arrows in Kasef’s body, and Del Bar will not take lightly to the disappearance of their king, one whom they crowned just before Viren marched.”

“Not to mention the Moonshadow assassinations on the three of those nations.” Commander Gren leaned forward on the table, looking to Amaya as she spoke. “It is a miracle that neither of them are in open civil war already.”

Aanya remained silent, her distant gaze drawing her away from the conversation.

“Not to mention a possible… ‘union’ of Lady Rayla and Prince Callum. Such an arrangement could possibly bridge the gap closer than we ever could at this moment, and that Dragon Regent took that away from us.” Opeli cringed at the suggestion she was implying. She was not a fan of it, but it would be a political boon. “What’s worse, Solla Ferum knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Probably.” Came from Amaya. She, too, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. This was her _nephew_ they were talking about, after all. “Speaking of the Prince,” she signed, “has anyone seen him?”

“Unfortunately not,” Aanya replied, bringing herself back to the conversation. “I saw the Lady Rayla slip out before we finished signing the treaty, and the Prince Callum leave after we did. He probably went to go look for her.”

Amaya sighed heavily, silently clearing her throat for words she would not speak. _No_. Her mind would not go _there_. She had to trust her nephew.

Ezran leaned back into his seat, sinking deeply. “This whole situation is a nightmare.”

‘Welcome to the Game, kid,’ Amaya signed sarcastically.

“I wish it _was_ a game, Aunt Amaya,” Ezran laughed sarcastically.

Soren tilted his head in confusion.

‘Sarcasm, Soren,’ Aunt Amaya signed.

“Oh… Right.” The Crownguard folded his arms and exhaled deeply.

“This would be a lot easier with Callum and Rayla here.” Ezran, too, sighed. “He knows Xadia a little bit, and Rayla lived here most of her life.”

“Would you like me to send someone to find them, sire?” Opeli asked, though her voice had concern for the wellbeing of the King.

“I’ll do it.” Soren said, already getting up before anyone could argue. “I need some fresh air, anyway.”

“Right,” Commander Gren said, translating. “Try not to take too long. The ‘party’ is starting soon.”

“You got it, General.” Soren said, leaving.

There was a long, dreaded silence in the room Amaya eyed carefully, looking at the two particular seats which held Callum and Rayla just yesterday, during their ‘talk.’

_Where are they?_

A pause in her mind.

_No. Not going there again. They’re smart. They wouldn’t._

_They couldn’t._

_Could they?_

_No, damnit Amaya! Stop! They’re young adults, now. They’re smart enough._

“A party!”

Amaya looked up to see a beaming Ezran, almost standing on top of the table with excitement.

“Pardon, your grace?” Opeli said, entirely confused.

“That’s how we can convince the Pentarchy!” When he was met with the same stares of bewilderment as just a few seconds ago, he went on to elaborate. “We get everyone in Katolis for a big party. They wouldn’t be as… well, _protected_ as they would at the Valley of Kings and-“

‘That’s a _dangerous_ game, Ezran.’ Amaya crossed her arms after she finished signing.

“Yeah, yeah I know. But since it won’t be a Pentarchy meeting, it won’t be as important.”

‘You are _not_ making any sense, Ezran.’ His aunt, like the rest of the table, we’re still trying to make sense of at least _some_ of what the young boy was attempting to spit out.

Aanya chimed in, seemingly understanding before the rest of the table. “I believe what he is trying to say is that they would not be beholden to any expectations as they would be if it were a meeting at the Valley of Kings.” She paused, looking to Ezran for confirmation.

“Yeah! Exactly! Thanks, Aanya!” Ezran wore a smile on his face from ear to ear.

Opeli wanted to correct his omission of the young lady’s title, but thought it unwise to do so in front of the lady in question. Instead, she resigned herself to an inquiry. “But what reason would they want to come, since it would not _be_ a meeting of the Pentarchy?”

‘Because we alone hold the information of what happened.’ Amaya signed, now fully understanding what her little nephew was getting at. ‘But the question of what to hold this gathering over remains.’

“Well…” Ezran began, thinking heavily. “Callum’s birthday is in about a month, and it’ll take about two weeks to get to Katolis from here. Maybe we could do that? He could even show off his Sky magic and stuff! Show them we don’t _need_ Dark Magic!”

‘I’m not sure your brother would appreciate us turning his birthday into a political event, Ezran,’ Amaya signed, ‘This is something we would have to discuss with him.’

“Yeah, you’re right.” Ezran replied to his aunt, finally sitting back in his chair. “I hope Soren finds him- _them_ , soon.”

Ezran crossed his arms. _Maybe they’re making sandwiches in the kitchen? Callum’s pretty weird with sandwiches._

As Ezran seemed to fly into his mind, a curious bird took off from the windowsill, to fly into the evening sky.

| - | - | - | - | - |

“Yeah!” A muffled voice said from behind a closed door. “And did you see the look on the bitch!? It was price-“

The doors opened, and a strongly built hooded figure walked in, the doors closing behind him.

“All Mother’s _tits_ , Haakon!” The same voice as before exclaimed. “You look like a fuckin’ _draugr_!” He paused, laughing to himself. “Your lady have a bit too-“

“Enough, Eivar.” The General, now King-Regent, commanded. He removed his hood and was met with the horrified gaze of the Ulfhednic Jarl, though the man sitting across from him was entirely unfazed.

The General took a seat and felt the taint fade away.

“So, what is the plan?” Iven crossed his arms, kicking his feet up on the table. “Now that you’re king, what now?” He paused, then stared directly into Haakon’s eyes. “I took a big risk for you, Haak’. You may be my brother-in-law, but I still have to-“

“Yes, yes, I know,” an annoyed Del Barren general responded. “You have to look out for yourself, you selfish skeever.” He chuckled, though only for his own amusement.

There was a silence at the small table. Unsteady silence.

Finally, it was broken.

“So…”

“So…?” Haakon asked, mocking his brother-in-law.

“We got you this far. What now?” Eivar asked the question for him.

“Well, my brother likely won’t be coming back. Neither will King Viren.” Haakon’s claim was firm.

“And just how the _fuck_ do you know that?” Eivar asked, genuinely confused, but with a little hostility. Asbjorn was his _king_ , after all.

“I have my… _sources_.”

“And you didn’t think to bring this up _during_ the Moot?” Iven, too, didn’t know what the General was leading on about.

“It has yet to be confirmed, of course.” He sighed. He knew what he was suggesting, what he was _doing_ , but it still bothered him, somewhat. This was his older brother they were talking about, after all.

Iven removed his feet from the table, instead opting to lean forward on it with his arms. “Did your… ‘sources,’ reveal anything else you’d like to share?”

Haakon knew he was referring to the expeditionary force. It was mostly Iven’s men that went, so naturally it would behoove him to at least want to _inquire_ about the state of his retinue.

He pondered his answer a moment. “They’re probably all dead.” He paused, looking for a way to affirm it to the two. “Chopped to fuckin’ bits by the knife-ears.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Haakon, I’m sorry-“

The General cut off Eivar before he could finish. “We should expect some form of retaliatory attack. Katolis took most of its forces, and Duren sure as hell went after them a few days later.” He snorted. “Little bitch probably realized her mistake at the Valley of Kings a little too late.” He smiled, however, but the other two didn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Shame, still.” Iven leaned back again. “Little runt was, what? Only twelve?”

“Something like that.” Eivar responded.

“As I said, we should reinstate the draft,” Haakon began, now his military mind at work. “Amass warriors on our borders with those two, ready to spring when the Elves come across.”

It was Eivar’s turn to snort. “Maybe even enact an Ulfgeld while we’re at it.” He grinned. “You know, for ‘services rendered.’”

“That’s all fine and dandy for you ‘roundshields,’” started the Varnovaslav, using the term of their favorite shield in a jokingly derogative way, “but we ‘ _cultured_ ’ men of the Taiga don’t believe in extortion.”

Eivar broke out into laughter. “Cultured _my ass_ , fuckin ‘Slav.” Iven soon joined him in his hearty laughter.

“Are you two done, yet?” Haakon was not amused.

“Tyr’s left hand, Haak’,” Eivar said, recovering from his wheezing. “Grow a fuckin’ heart, will you?”

“I will, when the Pentarchy isn’t threatened with its very existence.”

“Now you’re sounding a lot like King Viren, Haak’.” Eivar said sternly.

“Well, would you blame me?” He leaned back in his chair, stretching. “Man’s methods were… _creative_ , but he had a fuckin’ point.” He paused. “A shame that Pa was too blind.”

Iven cleared his throat. “Well, was there anything else from your ‘sources?’” He took a moment to think. “Any word on those Katolin brats?”

“Supposedly they’re alive, and returning to the Twins.” He then shrugged his shoulders. “How the _fuck_ they’re even surviving out there is beyond me, but rumors are the older one’s a mage now, and a… ‘powerful’ one, at that-“

He was cut off by Eivar’s exceptionally irritating laughter. “You… you mean,…” he was struggling to even speak between his wheezing, so he waited for himself to calm down a little bit. “You mean to tell me ol’ Dead-King Harrow’s _step_ -son”

“The very same.” He feared he revealed too much.

“C’mon, Haakon. You have to admit this sounds just a _little_ bit… inaccurate.” Iven said, crossing his arms. “Kid isn’t worth _shit._ ”

Haakon simply shrugged.

“Right, well, let’s _assume_ this information is correct.” The Varnovaslav was working very hard to relinquish a grin he felt oncoming. “How do we deal with him?”

“I’ll offer him the Princess Svana’s hand. The betrothal alone would be undoubtedly more than the kid’s worth.” The Barren Regent leaned forward. “Even _if_ we do it matrilineal, it would be quite the insult if we were refused.”

Eivar shugged. “Oh, suuuure,” he said sarcastically, “figures _you_ get the fuckin’ mage.” He paused, then snorted out of laughter again. “Well, it makes sense. One brat for another-“

The Jarl was cut off when a dagger found itself embedded into the table, with an angry General standing up. “Mind your tongue, Eivar, before you _lose it_.” He reclaimed his ornate dagger, sliding it into a hidden sheathe. “This is still my _niece_ we are talking about.”

Eivar simply shrugged. “Well, even if he isn’t a mage, we’re both still getting the raw end of a deal here, Haak’.”

“Both of you will be rewarded, substantially, for your efforts, and your loyalty.” Haakon resigned himself to sit down again.

“Well,” the Boyar began, “I trust my old agreement with Asbjorn is still in effect?”

“Yes, Iven,” Haakon confirmed, waving him off. “Your daughter Briagé is free to marry the Prince.” He paused, thinking. “Wouldn’t want years of cooing to be for naught, now.”

“My thoughts exactly,” confirmed the Boyar.

“Yeah, well, what about _me_?” Eivar asked. He was nothing if not brutally blunt.

Haakon pondered the question for a moment. He would need to offer something substantial if he wanted to keep Eivar on his side.

“How about you take a good portion of the navy? Summer’s coming up again, so it would be prime raiding time.”

“Raidin’s illegal now, Haak’.” Eivar crossed his arms.

“I’m the King now.” Haakon replied, grinning.

Iven lightly chuckled. “I suppose you are.” He paused, a grin coming over his face. “Nothing’s to say the crown has to _know_ about the raiding, either.”

Haakon scoffed. “Boyar Iven!” He was jokingly mocking. “Surely _you_ of all people wouldn’t suggest something illegal? And to your king?”

The trio laughed together.

“Maybe not, but it would certainly be less… ‘competition,’ in the way of Eivar.” Iven shrugged, then his demeanor changed. “Gods, makes you think of the old times, eh?”

The trio laughed once more, reminiscing over their youth.

“Well, I believe we all have work to do, do we not?” Haakon’s face still held his genuine smile. Despite it all, it felt good to laugh among some of his oldest childhood friends.

“That we do, Haak’.” Eivar said, resigning himself to get up. “But, seriously. You should probably get _that_ checked out.” He waived a pointed finger in a circular motion towards Haakon’s visage. “You look like you’ve been to Hel and got flushed down the shitter.”

“Oh, I’ve got just the thing, old friend.” He gave a warm smile as the Boyar and Jarl began to depart. As soon as the door closed behind them, he mumbled quietly to himself.

“I’ve got _just_ the thing…”

| - | - | - | - | - |

The sun was setting over the horizon, and Rayla found herself alone at the Pinnacle, at the top of the Storm Spire.

She looked downwards as she sat over the ledge. This spot held a lot of memories for her, in just the short amount of time she had spent here, and she found herself lost in thought.

_This is where I ran to after I had an argument with Callum when we first got here._

_This is where Callum almost professed his love for me, right before the Battle._

_This is where Callum saved me after I tackled that bastard._

She realized his name kept popping up.

Callum.

_‘Gads, dummy, ye really have te goan make thin’s like this harder, don’ye?_

She immediately shut that thought out. Making it harder for her to leave him? What kind of thought process was that?

She resigned herself to head back down to everyone, after a few hours of solitude and solace. She heard the sounds of celebration, so she felt it would be welcome company to replace her own mind and self-wallowing.

“Oh, there you are!” A familiar voice called out from behind. A voice she normally yearned to hear, but wasn’t sure if she would want to at the moment. “Rayla, I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you since the meeting. What’s going on?”

“Callum, I dinnae know if I wanna talk about it,” was her simple response.

By that time, the Prince had already nestled himself to sit next to Rayla and rested an arm across her to embrace her lightly.

“Oh,” he replied simply, taking his arm back as soon as he extended it.

She immediately twisted her head towards his to see him covered in a depressed state, then immediately went to hug him. “No, Callum is’ nae like _that_. It’s just- well, I been thinkin’ about Solla Ferum’s offer.”

Callum sighed. “And you’re gonna take it.” It was a mixture of a statement and a question.

“I dunno Callum, thas’ the thin’.” She rested her head on his shoulder, then found his arm wrap around her again. “Don’ get me wrong, I _want_ to, but I also _want_ to be with ye’.” It was her turn to sigh heavily now. “I cannae hurt ye’, I could never live with meself if I did- but I also cannae just _refuse_ the position, either.” A pause came over her. “If I lose ye’, I got nowhere else to go.” She looked up into his distant eyes. “Yer’ practically all I have left, me’ sweet prince.”

He went to open his mouth, but then closed it.

“Callum, if ye’ve got somethin’ te say, I’d like ye te say it.” She pressed a kiss on his cheek, then sat straight up, taking his hand in her own. “Please?”

He sighed again, then drooped his head. “I mean, you’ve still got Ethari, right?”

Her demeanor slackened. “Callum, I’ve been _ghosted_.” She looked off into the distant sunset. “There ain’t no goin back fer me, there. Take’s a lot to undo a ghostin’.”

“What would a letter from the Dragon Queen do?” He asked, looking towards the side of her head as she drifted off mentally, though his question brought her gaze to meet his own.

“Callum, I dunno if-“

“I…” he began, retreating his head inward, “I might have already asked her to do something about that.”

“You _what!?_ ” She screamed. A mix of emotions ran through her.

Should she feel anger? Callum did go behind her back. Should she feel betrayed? He did divulge an incriminating fact about herself which might interfere with the offer she had received earlier in the day. Should she feel happy? Proud? His intentions have, and always will be, pure.

“She… she said she doesn’t know if… if it will do anything, but she’s having a shadowhawk sent to protest your case.” He stumbled to get out his answer, as he wasn’t entirely sure if Rayla was about to snap at him.

“Callum, I…” She tore her face away, trying to hide the few tears. A few seconds later, she flew herself into the Prince’s arms. “…I love you,” she exclaimed between baited breaths and kisses on his lips.

Callum sighed heavily, relieved it didn’t go as he thought it might- he _always_ had a knack for expecting the worst- but at the same time entirely shocked when she threw herself into him. “Can we.. uhh…” he paused when her eyes met his, deep confusion ran through her for what she thought he was suggesting. “Can we, maybe… get away from the _edge_? Please?”

She fell into deep laughter to hide what she thought he was going to ask, then cut herself off when she saw his face. “Oh, right… sore subject, sorry.” Then they both arose from where they were sitting and held each other tightly, for what seemed like a good ten minutes.

Callum was the first to break the long silence, as he looked over to his left to see the sun finally falling over the horizon. “Listen, Rayla-“

“Please don’ ruin the moment, dummy,” she said, cutting him off. She buried her face into his chest, and she felt his arms wrap tightly around her. “I’m tryin te enjoy this with ye.”

“Please don’t make this sound like a _goodbye_.” He choked, then rested his head on top of hers as best he could, horns be damned.

“Cal, I still don’t even know what I’m going to do, anyway.” She went to look him in the eyes. “I… I need your help.” She sounded almost ashamed when she asked, so Callum took his arms away and instead grasped her own hands.

“Whatever you need, Ray, I’m right-“

“ _Ray_?” She staggered back a bit, tilting her head in confusion.

“Oh c’mon,” he chuckled, then pressed a kiss to her temple. “You called me ‘Cal,’ so I thought it only-“ he found himself cut off again when she broke away, staring at the ground.

_Wait, I did? I did, didn’t I? ‘Gads, I didnae even notice._

The young Moonshadow was brought back to reality when she felt her face cupped by the Human Prince’s hands. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop, but let’s focus on one thing at a time.” He bent down and sat cross-legged in front of Rayla, and motioned her to do the same. “Whatever it is you need me to do, Rayla, you only need to ask. Okay?”

As she sat, she dragged her knees up to her face and rested her chin on one of them. “I… I need yer help deciding what I should do.” She paused, then shook her head. “Nae, that’s- no. I want _us_ te decide. _Together_.”

Callum gave off a half-smile as he looked downward, then he looked back to meet her gaze. “Kinda like when we decided about staying to defend Zym?”

A feeling of warmth ran over her. She knew he’d understand.

“Aye, dummy. Together, or nae at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all!
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! Makes me so happy when I learn people are thoroughly enjoying this series! I can't wait to get more out!
> 
> As always, if you have suggestions for plot points, character details, and/or more, do NOT hesitate to tell me in the comments!
> 
> So, some of my thoughts going into this chapter:  
> -Concerning the treaty, I felt it would make sense that they would want the full story of how Callum connected to the Sky Arcanum, so he does just that, and nothing held back. Also took a suggestion from a user (not gonna say your name cause idk if you want me to, but you know who you are :D ) about Callum getting purified. Put my own little spin on it, obviously, but nonetheless, thank you for the idea!  
> -The next scene is a bit more political fluff. Basically everyone just relaxing after a high-intensity negotiation. Also, Aunt Amaya flipping into protective-mama-bear-mode due to her insecurities about teenage hormones, so that was fun to write.  
> -The next scene is definitely shaping the political climate back in the Human lands. Huuuuge political fluff and plotting. Expect this to play a large role in future chapters :)  
> -Final scene: RAYLLUM FLUFF! :D Can never get enough of writing Rayllum, so it pains me to end it off where I did. I'm starting to realize I can do a bit more "off-screen" to help with some minor time skips throughout the day, so that's where the mentioning of Callum and Zubeia's conversation came up. Also, I'm *attempting* my best to have Rayla sound more Scottish, so let me know how that's working out.
> 
> As always, thank you! And stay tuned for next time!
> 
> \-----  
> Posted: 27 Sep 2020


	5. Dragon Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the delegations, Elves and Humans part their separate ways.  
> Simultaneously, the Del Barren royal family begins to crumble under the stress, and the Forces That Be begin plotting their next move.  
> Afterwards, a Sunfire Elf general is given a basic introduction to Sign Langauge, and the Dragonguard welcomes its first new Prospect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all...  
> I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE!!!  
> I had quite a few family things come up this past week. Some good, some bad, but overall it caused me to lose a bit of focus.  
> Furthermore, I believe I will be changing this work to be updated bi-weekly, at least until further notice. My classes are starting to pick up, and with everything happening in my personal life, it's getting a bit hard to meet the weekly deadlines I set for myself.  
> However, YOU guys keep me motivated!! I cannot thank you all enough for your support, your comments, and your kudos! Thank you!!!!!  
> I wrote this over the span of a week, so I HEAVILY apologize if there are a bit more inconsitencies than I would have liked.  
> I also threw in a couple of, well, "Easter Eggs,' if you will. Let me know if you can find them! :D

| - | - | - | - | - |

Five days following the Battle of the Storm Spire

“Ibis! Really, you shouldn’t have!” Callum was ecstatic. He already had one book, yes- his sketch book- but now he had a second book! A gift from Ibis.

“It truly is a pity, Prince Callum, our situation.” Ibis smiled warmly as he handed the book to the Prince. “I was looking forward to teaching you. I’ve never had a student before, and I was looking forward to the opportunity to finally have one.”

“Is that just because I’m the first human to do real magic?” Callum returned the smile, then he caught himself. Wow. He just completely disregarded dark magic and he didn’t even realize. _Real_ magic, he said. Well, it was true, after all- and he vowed to never touch that evil abomination ever again.

“That is part of it, yes,” Ibis replied, smiling. The book he handed him bore the symbol of the Sky Arcanum, though the title was in Elvish. “Though, do take care at who you reveal it to. I’m afraid that, as far as the Dragon King-Regent is concerned, that particular tome is still under my name from the Spire’s small library.”

Callum smiled, and extended an arm, to which Ibis shook his hand. “Gods, Ibis, I really don’t know what to say.” He truly didn’t The gesture was far too kind, especially so due to the lengths that Ibis had taken to undertake it.

“Just swear to me this won’t come back to haunt me.” He gave a slight chuckle, but Callum did hear a hint of worry in his voice; and, after all, he couldn’t blame the Skywing mage. This was a big risk that Ibis was taking, and Callum wasn’t sure if he even deserved it.

Callum could do nothing but beam gleefully. As he continued to unnecessarily thank the Skywing Elf for multiple more times, Rayla was off on the side, and pulled Soren in to talk to him.

“Whoa, Rayla, you okay?” Soren seemed concerned, especially at the look in Rayla’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but Callum…” She said, drawing her gaze to her prince. _Her Prince_. That’s an idea that she was still getting used to, but she wouldn’t trade him for the world. “Listen, Soren, I… need you to do something for me. On the way back to Katolis, and when you get there too.”

Now the Crownguard was outright confused. “Uhh, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

The Moonshadow took a deep breath. She didn’t feel comfortable going behind Callum’s back like this, but she needed to do this, for his sake.

“I… need you to train Callum. With fighting, I mean.” When she saw Soren tilt his head, she looked down to the ground. “I don’t know why he hasn’t told me, but I heard from a lot of people that he… he…” This was far more difficult than she thought. “That he almost died. Again. From Kasef- or, well, whatever was left of Kasef.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. He and I used to train before, anyway.” Soren started to chuckle. “Stabby McStabbington, over there.”

“Soren!” Rayla snapped. It was rare that she did, so it startled Soren even more. “I’m being serious, okay? I… I can’t lose him, Soren, I can’t!” She exhaled deeply again. “He’s getting really good with his magic, but magic isn’t good up close. And, if something… _happened_ , and I’m not there to protect him…”

“Rayla, relax, okay?” Soren smiled warmly, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, then withdrew it when she winced. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-“ he cut himself off, deciding to not make it awkward. “Listen, he’ll be in good hands, okay? Trust me, I’ll make him not-so pathetic with a sharp pointy thing, alright?”

“Thanks, Soren.” She paused again, looking over to Callum, who was just now finishing up talking to Ibis. “Just… just don’t tell him I put you up to this, okay?”

Now Soren was confused. Again. “Not tell him?” He asked, looking over to the Prince again, then back to Rayla. “Listen, I’m not the best with friendships, but generally it’s not a good thing to hide things from others.”

“I- I know, but…” she couldn’t quite find the right words, and didn’t even notice Soren called it just a ‘friendship.’ Was she ashamed, going behind his back like this? Was she untrustworthy, since she felt she didn’t trust him to protect himself?

She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard Soren again.

“Listen, _I_ won’t tell him,” he paused, looking sternly at Rayla. “On one condition.” When Rayla perked up, a feeling of shame in her eyes, he continued, “ _You_ tell him.”

“Fine…” she said, with a slight huff.

“Now, I gotta make sure all my stuff is ready. I’ll bring him over, then you’ll tell him, alright?” With a nod from Rayla, the Crownguard then walked over to Callum and whispered in his ear. Callum seemed concerned, and then immediately ran over to Rayla, who still held a look of disappointment.

“Hey, Rayla, what’s wrong?” he asked, genuinely concerned. He brought a hand to perk up Rayla’s face and cup her chin, but she winced back, then grabbed her wrist and started to rub it. “…Rayla?”

“I, uhh, need to tell you something…” The tone in her voice was one of shame, and Callum went to grab both her hands, she drew back. Still, however, he persisted, and succeeded in drawing her into a hug, which she fell into without regret. “I asked Soren something. Behind your back. I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, Callum.”

When Callum jumped back, he had a look of betrayal. When Rayla saw that, she quickly drew him into a kiss, one he was hesitant to accept.

“No, no, no, Callum! It’s not like _that_! Nothing like that!”” This seemed to put this at ease, somewhat, but not fully. “I just asked Soren to try and train you in fighting. It’s just that I don’t want to lose you, and I-“

“That… really?” Callum’s surprised tone confused Rayla, but she was still bracing for a backlash. “That’s _it_? Why are you making such a big deal about it, Rayla? It’s fine!”

She almost fainted of relief from him being so forgiving, and threw herself into his arms. “I, I know, but still, the _idea_ of me going behind your back like this-“

“Rayla, really, it’s _fine_ , okay?” The Prince was rubbing her back very calmly. “ _I’ll_ be fine, okay? I’ve got my magic-“

“No, Callum, that’s just it!” She jumped back, almost pushing him away. “You say you’re fine, and you’ve got magic, and that’s all well and good until they get close to you, okay?” She was now on the verge of tears, and Callum didn’t really know what to say; how to comprehend the situation. “You always go on about how I always do that, how I say _I’m_ fine, but you’re doing that just now! I’m not the only one in this relationship, Callum!”

“Rayla, what the hell’s gotten into you?” Callum wanted to snap back, but knew that _that_ would almost end up extremely poorly.

“ _You_ , Callum! _You’ve_ gotten into me! And I can’t lose you, don’t you get that?!” Now what she feared was coming true: a fight- and it was practically her fault for snapping. She threw herself back into Callum’s arms, and squeezed so tight that he was almost having trouble breathing. She stopped, but didn’t dare let him go, and then looked up into the emerald eyes that she was absolutely in love with. “I heard about Kasef, okay? That’s what’s bothering me! That you always say that _I_ almost died, when you never, not even _once_ told me about how _you_ almost died! Okay!?”

Callum took a deep breath. “You, uhh… never asked…” He gave her a cheap answer, not wanting to discuss the topic further. She had a point, though, but he couldn’t think when he winced at the mention of Kasef’s name- it still brought him shivers, being at that… _thing_ ’s mercy, feet dangling helplessly in the air.

“You know that’s not a proper excuse Callum.” Rayla said, scolding him. She received a frown and a nod in reply. “Do you see my point? You have an issue with what _I_ do, then don’t even tell me when you do that exact thing yourself!” She sighed, burying her head into Callum’s chest. “Just… indulge me, okay? An hour or two a day, at _most_ , that’s all I ask.”

Callum sighed, then remained silent for a moment, taking in the moment.

“Yea, okay, I will. I’m sorry,” he replied finally, “I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

Rayla sighed as she pulled away, leaning in to kiss Callum’s lips. “Just… try not to hold anything like that from me again, okay?”

“Yeah, so long as you promise the same.” The Prince leaned in to steal another kiss. “You remember what you told me last night?”

Sensing a pattern, Rayla stole yet another kiss. “Word for word, my big dumb human.”

“This can go on forever, you know?” Callum laughed as he continued the pattern they were setting. “So, I’ll see you in two months?”

“Just one, hopefully. If I can get the Dragonguard stable enough, I should be back in the castle a few days before my birthday. I’m sorry I’m missing yours, though.” She sighed, though it was immediately broken when Callum kissed her again. He rested his forehead on hers, satisfied with the desired effect.

“It’s fine, it really is. I’ll get to see you for yours-“

“Ahem,” came a male voice. The couple then turned to see Commander Gren with his arms crossed, and General Amaya with her fists on her hips. They quickly broke apart from each other, blushing profusely.

‘Listen, lovebirds, neither of you are marching to war,’ Amaya signed with the Commander translating, ‘and no one is plagued with trying to stop the end of the world anymore, so there’s no need to cling to each other like your lives depend on it.’ Her tone held a hint of sarcasm, though she was mostly serious.

Gren couldn’t help but laugh as the flustered couple struggled to form coherent sentences, but was abruptly stopped by an elbow to his gut from the General.

Sensing they were holding up the rest of the entourage, the teenagers decided it was time for one last kiss.

“So, I’ll see you soon, my Prince,” Rayla said, hugging Callum tightly. “I love you.”

Callum returned the embrace just as passionately. “I love you too, Rayla.” A pause as they broke apart, though their hands were still laced together. “I’ll see you soon.”

Sharing one final smile together, they both went their separate ways. Rayla towards the Storm Spire, and Callum on his way back to Katolis- all the while sneaking glances towards each other for as long as they could.

| - | - | - | - | - |

The atmosphere in the Hinterpeak had changed ever since the ascension of General Haakon to kingship, and everyone knew it. Conversations were short, and greetings were brief. Everyone was on edge.

So too was the Crown Prince, Baldur, who found himself lost in thought, leaning on a stone archway.

“Hey there, ‘Ironside.’” A female voice said from behind, and Baldur almost jumped. “Whatcha broodin’ about?”

“Wha-“ He chirped, turning around. He was put at ease when he saw who had startled him. Chuckling slightly, he turned around to face her. “Hey, Briagé, and no, I’m not _brooding_.”

She walked up to him and leaned on the same wall he was, facing him. “Well, forgive me for noticing, but you were staring at the ground for a while now,” she said, grinning, “and the ground ain’t the most interesting thing to look at around here.” She bit her lip, then caught herself, blushing at the very obvious flirt. “I mean, unless it is, but I doubt it- so you were probably brooding about _something_.”

Baldur exhaled deeply. “I just miss _him._ I miss _them_.” He felt a hand on his shoulder pull him into an embrace.

“I know you do, Baldur. I do too, for what it’s worth.” She paused, then pulled away, leaving her two hands on Baldur’s shoulders. “King Florian was a good man, and your father was even greater. King Asbjorn was a visionary; he had _so_ many ideas for Del Bar, and you are just like him in so many ways-“

“You speak like he’s never coming back.” Baldur cut her off with a curt and cold reply. He couldn’t even meet her eyes.

“He knew the risks when he left to avenge your grandfather, Baldur,” she replied, trying her best to reassure him, “All of those warriors did. And I’m sure they’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

Baldur sighed again. He paused, desperately wanting to change the subject. “So… what’s with the whole ‘Ironside’ thing?”

Briagé took the hint that he didn’t want to talk about that subject anymore, so she decided to indulge him. “Well, they say no matter how hard you get hit, you always get back up.” She held a warm smile. “That one time the Captain bludgeoned your face in? You got right back up and fought again.”

Baldur chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say he _bludgeoned_ -“

“But that’s just it, Baldur,” Briagé cut him off, reaching down to hold one of his hands. “You’ve got skin as hard as iron, and a funny side to boot, so, you know, _Ironside_.”

The two of them laughed together, and Baldur couldn’t take his eyes away from Briagé’s own crystal blue eyes. As she laughed, a few strands of her silken black hair loosed themselves and fell in front of one of her eyes.

He moved his hand to brush back the hair that fell, and before he knew it his hand was cupping Briagé’s cheek. He flustered and pulled his hand back, but when he tried to bring it to his side, Briagé caught it, bringing it back to her face, which was also turning slightly red.

Subconsciously, the two began to lean in towards each other, and their lips were a whisper away from each other.

“ _Really_ , Baldur?” Came another voice from the side, and Baldur and Briagé quickly broke apart, their faces crimson red. When Baldur turned to face whoever intruded, his fists clenched.

“Oh, come on! Really, Svana!?” Baldur was about to run up to his younger sister when Briagé put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“I, uhh, think I should go…” Briagé said quietly. She reached for Baldur’s hand and squeezed it tightly, which he returned, then she left down the hallway.

The Crown Prince grunted angrily, and shook his fist at the Princess. “Gods _damn you_ , Svana! You just have to ruin _everything_!”

Svana, however, was not fazed, and she crossed her arms. “Really? And what would Mother think?”

That comment seemed to break Baldur, however he was no longer hostile for the time being. “Mother is _dead_ , Svana.” He turned to walk away.

“Then what do you call Lissa?” Svana asked, and Baldur stopped dead in his tracks. “Is she nothing to you, then?”

“Lissa is not my mother.” Baldur replied coldly, looking over his shoulder. “She is our _step-_ mother. There is a difference.”

Svana started walking towards her brother. “Is there? Is there _really_ a difference?” She paused, grabbing her brother by the arm. “She’s been more of a mother to both of us than-“

_“You don’t get to talk about mom!”_ Baldur snapped, fully turning around and pointing a finger towards his little sister. “You _killed_ mom, don’t you get that? She _died_ bringing _you_ into this world!” He clenched his fist again. “ _My_ mother his _dead_ , because of _you_!”

Where this mental snap came from, Svana did not know. What she did know, was that she was almost about to be attacked by her own brother. Tears started to form, and before she knew it, her face became a waterfall.

“Svana, I…” Baldur tried to say. His sister’s facial expression seemed to bring him back to his senses, though it was a bit too late- his sister was already halfway down the hallway. “Svana,” he called out, “ _come back…_ ”

“Family trouble?” Another voice rang out behind him. _Gods, people seem to be doing that a lot lately_. He turned around to see an older man, brown of hair and with a small beard. His other uncle, and his father’s youngest brother.

“Uncle Hjarrold,” Baldur said, sighing heavily. He threw his back against the wall and slowly slid down it. “I can’t seem to do _anything_ right. I’m almost glad Uncle Haakon was chosen instead of me; Gods know how badly I would’ve screwed up already.”

“Get up.”

“Wha-“ Baldur went to say, but he was being pulled up to his feet by his uncle.

“All of what you just said is untrue, Baldur,” Hjarrold began, placing his hands on each of Baldur’s shoulders, “Listen to yourself, Baldur. You’re ripping yourself apart; over what? Your sister walking in on you and your girlfriend? Is that how your father raised you?”

“She’s not my-!” He wanted to protest, but realized it probably wouldn’t be a smart idea. Instead, he gave silence, and looked down towards the hard stone floor.

“That’s what I thought. Your father did _not_ raise you that way.” His voice was stern, yet affectionate. “You are almost a spitting image of your father when we were all young. I’ve no doubt you have the same great personality as him, as well.”

The Crown Prince nodded, and lightly sighed. “Thanks, Uncle Hjaarold.”

“Don’t mention it, nephew,” Hjarrold replied with a warm smile, ruffling Baldur’s short, blond hair. “Now go apologize to your sister.” He paused, a grin coming onto his face before he prepared to purposefully taunt his nephew. “You can always make out with your girlfriend later.”

Baldur stammered, taking a step back. His cheeks flushed, and he could barely say anything. “She’s not my-!”

He was met with a rough ruffling of his hair again and a playful pat on his head. “ _Sure_ , of course Briagé’s totally _not_ your girlfriend, after you two almost kissed in front of your little sister.”

Flustered, Baldur started laughing nervously, and then walked off as he began to look for where his sister ran off to.

Feeling accomplished, Hjarrold crossed his arms, smiling. “Ahh… young love…”

| - | - | - | - | - |

“Lord Viren, a word…?”

Aaravos’ voice was as ominous as ever, yet something about it was so… _luring_.

As much as he may have wanted to, Viren could not ignore the summons. “Yes, Aaravos?” He asked, still somewhat unsettled by the Host’s apparence- he’d never truly get used to what he was looking at.

“You know I’ve been studying for a way for us to all leave Xadia, yes?” Aaravos’ host shifted slightly, however the sparkly mist moved to accommodate the movement far too much for Viren’s comfort.

“I’m aware,” he said, using his staff to keep him upright. Ever since his fall, Viren has been… _different_ \- he has been more tired, and his body ached. “Does our current conversation mean you’ve found a way?”

“Oh, indeed I have, my friend.” Aaravos moved to sit down- not that he needed to, but he felt it would help to ease the mind of the fallen king. “As you may well know, I am stuck in some sort of… ‘prison,’ a realm between life and death, not unlike your own ‘collection.’”

Viren nodded slowly. He indeed held a ‘collection’ of Elves he’d harvested personally. He subconsciously went to check if he still had them, and he did, though for some reason it felt… _lighter_ than he remembered? Was that another side effect of being brought back from death? Not remembering things properly?

“Well,” Aaravos continued, “during my host’s creation, I have been glimpsing into many possible futures…“

“Wait,” Viren interrupted, “You mean to tell me that you can… _see the future_?”

“Not exactly,” Aaravos replied. “You know I am a Startouch Elf, and as such I have a special connection to the Star Arcanum.” He paused, shifting once more. “For a lack of a better phrase, Star Magic can allow me to view _many_ different possible futures.”

Viren cleared his throat. “So, if you can see many possible futures, why did you not tell me this earlier!?” He was raising his voice now, and was understandably angry. “If you’d told me what would have happened during the Battle, a lot of what went wrong could have been avoided! My _death_ could have been avoided!”

“Well, if I’d had told you what would have happened, it would not have happened.” Aaravos paused, and although there was no proper face on the misty creature, the shadows contorted to give off the look of a grin. “I knew exactly what would happen in Lux Aurea, but I would be lying if I’d said the Battle of the Storm Spire likewise went as I’d expected it.”

The creature continued. “When the young Moonshadow charged us the first time, I’d expected as such, which is how we repelled her.” He paused, looking down, then back to Viren. “I’d not expected her to charge the second time, especially in the manner in which she did so, so you have my sincerest apologies.”

Viren grunted, unsure if he should accept such a notion.

When he got no response, Aaravos went to finish. “Well, as I’ve tried to say now, I have been glimpsing many different futures, and one portion of a lot of them keeps recurring, which I believe we can use to our advantage to escape Xadia.” The creature leaned forward, resting its misty elbows on its solid, chitin knees. “Tell me, Lord Viren, do you know where the ruins of Elarion are?”

“I am aware, yes.” Is all Viren would reply.

Aaravos would recall the list of possible events, and within an hour, they would form a plan. Within the next thirty minutes, the party of twelve were prepared to leave, and were embraced with the chilling cold of the Shiverglades.

Well, at least Claudia and Viren were.

The ‘Blessed’ were unfazed, as their hearts and blood were replaced with warm fire and magma- a result of Viren’s ‘gift’- and Aaravos’s host, well, _nothing_ seemed to bother it.

The Host eventually pulled Claudia aside.

“So, how have _you_ been, my dear, young Claudia?’ The creature asked, and it sent uncomfortable shivers down Claudia’s spine.

“I, well, alright, I guess…” she replied, shifting some of her white hair behind her ear. “Why- uhh, why do you ask? I mean, I don’t mind you asking! I’m just curious.”

The creature chuckled. “There is no reason to be afraid of me, my dear. My name is Aaravos.” He paused as they continued to walk. “Your father’s… _little bug pal_.” He chuckled to himself again. “But, I ask because these have been trying days, especially for you, what, with you bringing your father back to us.”

She coughed once uncontrollably. “Yeah, well, uhh, he’s fine now, right? That’s all that matters…”

Aaravos exhaled silently. “It does matter a _great deal_ , yes, but it is not _all_ that matters. No. You must also think of yourself, and your own health and wellbeing.” He smiled. “Tell me, is there something bothering you? You look… troubled.”

She sighed. “Well, a couple of things, I guess. There’s Soren, who would rather serve the traitor princes than humanity as a whole,” she paused, stopping for a minuted. Aaravos stopped with her. “And then there’s Callum.”

“What of the young prince?’ He asked inquisitively, gesturing for her to keep up with the rest of the group.

“I feel like I don’t know him anymore,” she replied, with a hint of sadness on her voice. “I thought we had _something_ , anything, really. But he chose that Elf over my father.”

The Host nodded in agreement. “I did witness that act, yes. He used Sky Magic to save her, if I recall.”

“Yeah, and that’s the other thing,” Claudia began, “I saw him at the battle using magic, but he told me he’d smashed my primal stone at the Moon Nexus.”

Aaravos contemplated the information for a moment. Was it possible this boy had forged his own connection to the Sky Arcanum? And as a Human, no less? No, that was _impossible_.

But then, his mind began to work. He himself was an Archmage, and to gain such a title, he’d forged a connection to all of the remaining five Primal Sources, barring his own connection to the Star Arcanum which he’d gained at his birth.

Perhaps the Arcana-oriented is not a question of connection because of magical potential, but a question of magical potential _because_ of a connection. Perhaps the Arcana were not, themselves, innately magical, but the connection itself is a link which allowed magic to exist in the first place?

Nevertheless, he would have to study such a possibility.

If this boy had, indeed, forged his own connection, then this would change everything. History, the balance of power- _everything_.

He found himself lost in his own thoughts, only broken from such a trance by an inquisitive poke on one of his chitin plates.

“Oh, uhh, sorry! I just, didn’t know, and, uhh…” she stammered, unsure of how to salvage the awkwardness.

“It is no issue, my dear,” he said, reassuring her. “I am never one to douse the flame of curiosity.” He paused. “You told me you had ‘something’ with this young prince.” He grinned. “What if I told you, you could reclaim him?”

Claudia raised an eyebrow. “ _Reclaim_ him? What, like… magic?” She wanted to be disgusted. She was an avid user of magic, but only ever used it when she thought it was necessary. Saving Soren? That was necessary at the time, even though she regretted it now- no, she didn’t regret it. Soren was her brother, and he was family. He can still be persuaded. And to save her father? That was _beyond_ necessary. But… to save _Callum_? What _that_ necessary? Or was it just something to indulge herself?

Maybe she _should_ indulge herself?

Aaravos’ grin grew wider. “Dark magic is a pathway to many abilities some might consider to be… _unnatural_.” Claudia shivered with the last word, but Aaravos continued anyway. “Tell me, what do you know about Dragon Marks?”

“A… ‘Dragon Mark’?” She asked, tilting her head. “I can’t say I’ve heard of them.”

“When a Dragon is born, the young dragonling forges a unique… ‘connection,’ to someone, where they may, from time to time, share thoughts, visions, and the like.” Aaravos drew a rune in the snow with his elongated pincer. “Such a gift is known as a Mark of a Dragon.”

“How can that help us get Callum on our side?” Claudia asked curiously. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued.

“If we can harvest such a gift from an unborn dragon, we can use our magic, and the life force of said dragon, to cast a connection from one person to another.” He smiled menacingly. “Such a connection could return the Prince to your side.” He paused. “What do you say?”

Claudia hesitated before answering. Almost every bone in her body told her that it was wrong. That Callum made his choice.

_Almost_ every bone.

A choice that broker her heart.

That broke _her_.

If nothing else, it would be revenge on that Elf for stealing him from her.

“Let’s do it.”

| - | - | - | - | - |

Although the entourage, along with Duren’s army and the remaining Lux Aurean forces, left the Storm Spire in the afternoon, night seemed to descend upon them quickly, and so they pitched camp.

Everyone who was close to the Katolian royal court were huddled around their campfire- Callum, Ezran, Soren, Opeli, Corvus, Gren, Amaya, and… General Janai? _Huh, that’s weird_.

Callum kept shooting glances in between his sketches towards his aunt and the Golden Knight, who, to him, seemed to be sitting just a little too close together. Not that he was judging, he just found it… peculiar.

“Something wrong, Prince Callum?” The Sunfire Elf general asked, who caught Callum glancing towards them. It wasn’t a hostile tone, rather just calling him out on his obvious staring.

“Ah- What? No! No. Nothing!” Callum stammered, struggling to form coherent sentences. “No! AH, just- nah! Nothing at all!”

The rest of those around the campfire began to chuckle to themselves.

‘If you’re allowed to have a badass Elf girlfriend,’ Amaya signed, ‘then so am I.’

Janai laughed. “Oh so we’re girlfriends now, are we? Quite a promotion from prisoner.” Gren couldn’t keep a straight face as he translated on behalf of Amaya, who likewise had a similar reaction afterwards.

Callum chuckled to himself at the situation, but decided to go back to his sketches. His aunt had a point, so who was he to judge?

“So, whatcha working on?” Ezran asked, unsure if he should peak over his brother’s shoulder.

Callum didn’t mind if his brother peeked at it, so he turned his book to show him. It was an in-progress sketch, still. It showed Callum with his mage wings, wrapped around Rayla, with her resting her head on Callum’s shoulder.

“I should’ve known you’d draw her,” Ezran said, chuckling. “So, have you thought about what I told you?”

Callum sighed. “Yeah, Ez, but I still don’t know. You know I don’t like having big events for my birthday anyway, and then doing exactly that, while also making it political? I don’t know.”

‘I can understand where you’re coming from, Callum,’ Amaya signed, ‘but you have to start thinking about the whole of Katolis, and the whole of the Pentarchy and the world, by extension. It’s a lot to ask, but you can’t just think about yourself.’

“Plus,” Janai began to add, “you can always celebrate Rayla’s birthday with a much smaller gathering.”

“Just do not celebrate _too_ much, Prince Callum,” Opeli added. When Callum went to nervously chuckle, he could tell the Advisor was being very serious.

There’s a general uncomfortable atmosphere coming from Callum, as all he manages to conjure in reply is him clearing his throat, and returning his beat-red face back to his sketching book.

To ease the tension, Amaya gets up and extends an arm to Janai, who takes it, and ushers Gren to follow the two. Eventually the trio comes to a clearing, fit with a fallen log before a small lake.

_General_ , Gren signs, _are you sure you, uhh, want me here for this?_

Amaya snickers. _Nothing’s going to happen, Gren. I just need your help_.

“So, want to explain what is going on?” Janai asked, crossing her arms.

“We are going to be teaching you some Katolian Sign Language,” Gren explains, translating for his general, “Or ’KSL’ for short.” A pause comes from the Commander, and he turned to face Amaya. “Ohhhhh, okay.” Realization, and a slight relaxation, wash over him.

Janai, however, still looked uncomfortable. “I am not sure if –“

“Oh, _nonsense_ ,” Gren says, waving a hand in an attempt to shove away any doubts that the Golden Knight might have,” It’s _easy_.” The commander turns to Amaya. _Where do you want to start, General?_

_Let’s start with the alphabet_ , Amaya signs, and then postures her hand into the ‘A’ position.

When Gren explained, Janai did her best to imitate the hand movement. It was difficult for her, having to adjust due to the lack of a fifth finger, which was quite amusing to both the Katolians.

Throughout the night, they continued to go through the entire Common Tongue alphabet, and it took a few hours for General Janai to fully grasp the motions, meanings, and specific movements, and commit them to memory as best she could.

“And that one,” Commander Gren explained Amaya’s particular movements, is ‘I love you.’”

Janai copied the movement.

“And that one is ‘I know you do,’” Gren said, while Amaya held a peculiar grin on her face. When the Golden Knight started to burst out in laughter, the Commander tilted his head in confusion. “Wait, what’s so funny?” He asked, blissfully unaware of the conversation he was mediating. However, when he looks over to see Amaya silently chuckling as well, the realization dawns on him, and he shoots out of his seat. “Okay, I am _not_ translating _this_ ,” he says while joining the laughing, and gesturing with his hands between the two of them, “It is late, and we pick up the march again tomorrow, so I would like to get some sleep.”

He laughed as he walked off, and Janai likewise stood up, with Amaya following suit.

“We should probably retire as well,” the Golden Knight began, “The commander is right, it is getting late and-“

She was interrupted by Amaya, who placed a passionate kiss on her lips. She was hesitant to return it, but did, only for a moment before tapping the Katolian’s shoulder.

“Quite, uhh, _forward_ , aren’t you?” She asked, but when Amaya crossed her arms, she shook her head. “Oh, right, you can’t hear me.” She groaned, then gestured towards the camp. “We’ll, uhh, sort _this_ out in the morning,” she said, though mostly to reassure herself rather than Amaya.

They then walked hand-in-hand back towards the camp.

| - | - | - | - | - |

Night seemed to come far too quickly at the Storm Spire. Ibis had already sent letters along with the Elven delegates who’d attended the previous negotiations, as well as to the remaining Elven kingdoms who did not attend, along with the various Tidebound and Moonshadow settlements, with instructions for them to send their finest champions to become a part of the new Dragonguard.

However, Rayla believed they already had their first candidate in one of the Lux Aurean survivors of the Battle- a Sunfire Elf sergeant, Mansa, who boasted a rather large greatsword. Although, to call her weapon a ‘greatsword’ is a bit of an injustice, as it was in fact a zweihänder, except it also boasted a rather falchion-like chopping appendage towards the top.

Mansa, herself, was a beast of a woman in her own right. She was about as tall as what Runaan was when Rayla last saw him. That particular though process began to send shivers down her spine, because the last time she saw her foster-father, he’d tried to kill her to get to Zym.

_No. I ain’t thinkin’ about that._

She needed a clear head for what she was about to do.

Across from her was Mansa herself, and the two had been circling each other for a few minutes, testing each other’s resolve.

Rayla would definitely be lying if she said she wasn’t intimidated.

Because she was.

Heavily.

Mansa would ultimately be the one to strike first, charging forward in an almost bull-like fashion, brandishing her horns as she ran head-first towards the Moonshadow Elf.

_Okay,_ Rayla thought, _a brute. I can work with this._

She _could_ work with this, but Rayla knew she had to act fast. It would only be a matter of seconds before the beast of a Sunfire Elf closed the distance.

Ultimately, Rayla chose to summersault over her opponent, though one of her blades managed to get caught by Mansa’s reactionary overhead swing, which unsurprisingly launched said blade across the room.

Rayla didn’t have much time to think about attempting to retrieve it, as she found herself having to roll away from another savage strike. Rayla only just managed to slip past Mansa’s blade, as the large sword made a distinct _cling_ as it chipped the hard stone floor.

“ _Nexus_ ,” Rayla exclaimed, “you don’t let up, do you?”

Mansa chuckled. “Not when my career is on the line!” She took her sword in both hands and swung sideways, forcing Rayla to duck underneath it.

Now, she had an opportunity – one she would not hesitate to exploit.

The Moonshadow charged straight towards the Sunfire, and in one fluid motion flipped her remaining sword to its secondary pick-like shape, hooked Mansa’s feet, and then help the tip towards the Sunfire Elf’s neck.

“Never leave your guard open like that.” She quickly sheathed her blade and extended an arm to help Mansa onto her feet. “You devoted too much power to that last swing, which over-extended yourself. I’m sure it’s good on the battlefield against other soldiers, but the Dragonguard don’t fight conventional battles.”

Mansa chuckled. “Yes, I’ve gathered as such by your fighting style.”

“Come on, don’t beat yourself up over it. You were good!” Rayla patted Mansa’s shoulders “You definitely had me on my toes the whole time, and forced me to think about a way to get in past your guard. Unfortunately for you, you gave me that very opening, and any opponent you might face that’s even remotely as acrobatic as me can easily find their way past you in a similar manner.”

Mansa shrugs her shoulders. “I mean, I see your point, boss, but this was kind of how I was trained. Not sure if I can really grow out of it – But I’ll try, I mean!” She quickly adds in.

_Boss_.

The realization hits Rayla like a head-on cavalry charge.

She called her _boss_.

She _was_ her boss.

Rayla never really had the time to adjust to the idea of being the Captain of the Dragonguard, even _if_ if was just temporary.

Now it had just hit her in the face.

“Lady Rayla?”

Rayla snapped back to her senses. “What? Oh, yeah! I mean,” she stammered, “actually, um, what were we talking about?”

Mansa cocked her head. “Are you feeling alright?”

Rayla exhaled. “What? Yeah, just – well, you called me ‘boss,’ and it never hit me until just then that I am, well, _captain_.” She went to scratch the back of her head. Unlike Mansa, she was, still, in her heart, just a barely sixteen-year-old girl.

“Oh, my Lady, I apologize,” Mansa frantically yelps, giving a quick bow in the Sunfire Elf fashion. She mistook Rayla’s surprise for her own mistake of fraternization.

“No, no!” Rayla exclaimed, shooting her arms out to have Mansa stand upright once more. “It’s not that! I don’t mind you calling me ‘Boss,’ it’s just that I never really got used to the _idea_.”

Mansa regains her posture, and nods hesitantly. “Oh, right, yeah.”

There was a general silence that fell over the two for a few moments, but was broken when Ibis had entered the room with two glasses of water - and judging by the condensation of the glass, they were chilled.

“Done already?” He asks jovially, offering one glass to each warrior, who both accept it without hesitation.

“Well, helps when your opponent just opens herself to you,” Rayla joked, lightly punching Mansa’s arm. Mansa, in reaction looked down in shame. “Oh, come on, liven up, will ya?”

The resulting chuckle was all Rayla needed, happy with herself that she’s making another friend. She hasn’t had too many of those, now that she began to think about it.

Sure, there was of course her own click back in Silvergrove- a handful of girls who Rayla fell into rather quickly- but by this point they probably –

_No,_ she thought _, they ghosted me. If they were really my friends, they wouldn’t have-_

Then her mind went to Ethari. How _he_ ghosted her too. Her own foster-father, directly blaming her for Runaan’s death.

But then how he helped her and Callum, get all the way to the Midnight Desert.

And then _Nyx_.

At first, her fist clenched, but then she realized: if it wasn’t for Nyx, she wouldn’t have Callum.

_Callum_.

Her heart warmed at the thought

He was hers, and she was his.

She remembered their first kiss. No, their first _proper_ kiss – not the debacle at the Oasis.

“You’re doing it again, boss?”

Rayla shook her head. “Sorry, I just…”

“There is no need to explain yourself, Lady Rayla,” Ibis reassured her. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“Aye…” was all Rayla could manage to whimper out, tucking a few strands of her silvery-white hair behind her pointed ear.

“So it’s true then,” Mansa asked, crossing her arms in disgust. “You’re with a filthy _praedo_?”

Praedo.

She hadn’t heard that term in over a month, and the last time she’d heard it, the word filled her with so much rage.

Now, it was a different kind of rage.

The term itself was Old Elven in origin, roughly translating to ‘ravager’ or ‘abuser’ in Common Tongue, but the term definitely stuck in future generations as being the term to refer to Humans as.

And, of course, Mansa referred to Callum as the _praedo_ in question.

“I suggest ye’ quit while yer ahead before I put me fist though yer skull,” Rayla grumbled, her accent coming out noticeably thicker with her enraged emotions.

“ _Sources_ , sorry boss,” Mansa exclaimed, throwing her hands up in a sort of mock defeat. “I did not realize how much you cared for the prae- err, Human.”

“His name is _Callum_ ,” Rayla said through gritted teeth. She slowly turned her head towards the Sunfire Elf, and, despite Rayla’s size compared to the beast of an Elf, Mansa was heavily intimidated. “No, It’s _Prince_ Callum. And I suggest you refer to him as such in my presence.” She paused, clenching both her fists so Mansa could clearly see her distraught. “ _Understood?_ ”

Mansa nodded quickly. “Yep. Mhmm. Understood. Completely understood. Prince Callum. Right.” She started to back away.

Ibis put a hand on Rayla’s shoulder in an attempt to restrain her. He knew he had to defuse the situation. “Madame Mansa,” he began, “why don’t I show you to your assigned quarters? The Lady Rayla is tired, so I believe it prudent you take the first watch.” Ibis tried his best to offer an out for Rayla, which she was silently grateful for.

“Aye,” she replied, her accent somewhat subsiding, “I think I am more than _tired_.”

It would be rough, these first few days. Weeks, even. For the past month, she’d been with Callum, and, by extension, Ezran and Zym, but she was _with_ Callum. She knew him, and he knew her. They were close. They were _together_.

And now, just earlier today, they weren’t. Well, they were still _them_ , but for the first time, they were no longer in each other’s presence.

She silently walked to her quarters, and changed out of her assassin’s garb for what felt like the first time in, well, a _month_.

Not that she hadn’t gotten out of her armor before - she had to bathe, after all, much to her displeasure of the water – but rather, the first time she was wearing something _different_.

It was a night gown. A simple one, to be sure, but it was simple on _Dragonguard_ terms. It was a light gray, and had silver threads weaved into it to create intricate, flowing patterns.

As she sat on her empty bed, claiming the top bunk for herself out of bat of pure childhood spite, she thought of how peaceful it was. How things were.

How peaceful things _could_ be if Callum were there.

And then, like a Banther, it hit her.

Another realization.

_Sadness_.

She missed him.

She shook her head again in an attempt to stop her from going down that rabbit hole.

_Loneliness_.

She had important things to do. She was the Captain now. She had paperwork to sort out.

_Withdrawal_.

“Gods, Rayla,” she said, berating herself, “when did you become such a damn _sap_?” She chuckled to herself. “Callum, what do you _do_ to me? Makin’ me talk to myself?”

Her head hit the pillow shortly after that, and a singular tear fell across her cheek.

Sleep soon found her after that.

So soon, in fact, that she did not see the misty, purple wisp floating around her closed window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thoughts on this chapter:
> 
> -Sad yet wholesome Rayllum hours :(. Anyway, I can definitely see Ibis pitying Callum's situation, so he might try to rectify it somewhat. In fact, I saw a comment suggesting this exact thing (you know who you are:D), but I have to say that by the time I saw your comment, the scene was already written, haha! Thanks for the feedback, though!  
> -Tensions are growing in Del Bar, and I wanted to build up some more characterization in the characters there. I don't want Svana to be a *complete* spoiled brat, but have her reasons for actually being spoiled. Also, new character introduced! General Hjarrold, for those who missed. I went through about five different names for him before finally settling on Hjarrold, and in case anyone's confused, King Florian had three children in my AU: Asbjorn, Haakon, and Hjarrold. Also... possible Brialdur ship?  
> -Muahahaha. *Evil Aaravos Noises*. Some heavy plotting behind the scenes here, and some manipulation going on as well! Also, I'd be lying if I said this is what I had planned for the title of the fic 'Mark of a Dragon;' I legit just picked it because it sounded cool. And now, I actually have some cool story to tell behind the name while pretending that this was my master plan all along! Haha!  
> -Some light character banter in the next scene. A cozy fireside chat, if you will. Callum and Ezran just being brothers, Gren being our incredible, lovable Strawberry Boi, and my first attempt at Janaya! I was incredibly uncomfortable going into this scene, only because I had (and still don't) no clue how to write a lesbian scene while on a slow burn. Any pointers and advice would be welcome! Also a sneak glimpse at the 'adult side' of Amaya, different from the face she has to put on in front of her nephews. ;)  
> -Lastly, the last scene (and before you ask, no I don't know why I typed that, and yes I'm tired). I have to thank user Ragnar_the_Red (go check out his TDP College AU fic btw, it's AMAZING) for the name of Mansa in the TDP discord! I am just atrocious with names (if the debacle with General Hjarrold is any inclination), so thank you! Also, more Elf-Human racism (D:). Can't escape it, as much as we may want to. All we can do is work together to fix it, and, if we're lucky, bash in a few heads while we're at it! I'm getting more used to writing combat scenes, but I wasn't happy with how short the fight was. Nevertheless, I'm pretty happy with this scene, and this entire chapter by extention.
> 
> As always,  
> Leave kudos if you enjoyed, and leave comments if you have something to say! I don't care what you say, whether its constructive, appreciative, etc.! And if you just have something horrible to say, I'll just throw a cringe meme at you and call it a day :D
> 
> Yours truly,  
> IronsideHeldenhammer
> 
> \-----  
> Posted: 6 Oct 2020


	6. Now We Are Ready to Sail for the Horn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla and Callum are forced to battle with their inner-selves, unaware of the other's struggles, and unable to support each other.  
> The Jarldom of Serpentongue prepares for a raid.
> 
> -Changelog-  
> 21 Oct 2020: Added translated Bavarion scene in comments. Fixed some typos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you all so much for the support, comments, and kudos! It means so much!
> 
> Okay, here I was telling y'all to expect the next chapter this coming weekend, and here I am posting it a few days early.  
> So, uhh... surprise?
> 
> The new biweekly schedule is SERIOUSLY helping me a ton. I was able to breathe a lot more with this chapter, so I think I'll be sticking to this schedule for a little bit.
> 
> Also I guess it's because I needed to shift my mind to something other than real life for a bit, since I did get a little bit of bad news in the family recently (I'll keep y'all posted as much as you want).
> 
> Bit of a favor I'm asking y'all. Fill out my survey? Just asking for some tips, as well as asking for ideas about the future going forward :D  
> https://forms.gle/C9wYnQdP52QNd4CM6  
> Survey is completely optional, but I would appreciate it if you would fill it out :)
> 
> I am sorry for the short chapter, though. It's mostly just fluff and filler-content, so I can't work much with that. Nevertheless, I tried my best.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

| - | - | - | - |

Nine days following the Battle at the Storm Spire

“You’re too late!” A familiar voice rang out in front of Rayla. An _all-too_ familiar voice. “I can feel it’s power! _Surging_ into me!”

An _all-too_ familiar place.

She’d just been thrown backwards after charging him.

Him.

It was _him_.

Why was he here?

Why was _she_ here?

She’d already lived through this, she thought.

That doesn’t matter now. What mattered was that they _were_ here.

She could finish what she started. She _would_.

Without a single thought, she looked over to the edge of the Pinnacle.

_This time, it will work._

As she charged forward, her resolve hardened.

Then, a split second of doubt.

_“NO!”_

He was here, too.

 _Callum_.

She didn’t even turn around.

Just kept running.

Turned her back on him.

Abandoned him.

All to fuel her own doubt, her own anxiety.

She would see this through to the end. She would see him fall - She would know that she _did_ kill him.

After all, he was killing Zym.

He would kill Callum.

None of that could happen. Not if she had anything to say about it.

She had to protect them. Had to protect her Prince.

At that moment, she collided with Viren, and a moment of content would wash over her as her momentum brought the two of them over the peak.

Down towards the foot of the mountain.

However, in her heart she knew how this would play out.

She just had to wait.

And _wait_.

 _Confusion_.

She should have seen him by now.

Was he not coming?

 _Panic_.

Why wasn’t he there?

She reached out into the clouds, hoping for a glimpse of his piercing emerald eyes.

Nothing.

Then, she remembered.

_She didn’t even turn around._

_Just kept running._

_Turned her back on him._

_Abandoned him._

“NO!” She screamed out. “This is a _dream_!” Her voice pitched and cracked, frozen tears starting to burn on her cheeks.

Rayla started swinging her arms about frantically, calling out in a desperate, futile attempt to have her prince save her.

He never came.

“Gods damnit, Rayla!” She scolded herself, frantically pinching her nerves, but not feeling a single thing. “It’s just a dream! _Wake up!_ ”

But she didn’t.

She just kept falling.

Before long, she saw the ground.

The end.

She braced herself.

| - | - | - | - |

“Come on step- Err,” a pause. Hesitation. “Err, _Callum_.” Soren started poking the Prince’s arm with a stick. “Breakfast is ready.”

All the Crownguard received in reply was a disgruntled, tired growl.

“Come on, you’re not turning into Bait, are you?’ Soren snickered to himself. “Come on, you wouldn’t want me going to your aunt and saying you skipped-“

“Yep, got it, breakfast is ready, let’s go.” Callum said, getting out of his sleeping bag faster than Bait could snatch a jelly tart.

The two laughed as Soren leant a hand to pull Callum up, and the two started walking towards where the rest of their entourage was sitting.

It was a simple breakfast, but one that would be enough to keep everyone moving – eggs and sausage. When he and Soren sat down, Callum could swear he heard a soldier talk about how he knew that two eggs and a sausage would be perfect, and a subsequent dismissive groan in response.

With that in mind, however, Callum decided that would be exactly what he’d have.

Callum noticed a Katolian soldier in front of him, sitting with a Sunfire Elf, start to get up, though the Elf in question ushered him to stay put. The soldier looked like he was in pain.

“You doing alright, Marcos?” Soren asked, showing concern for the soldier.

“Yeah, doing a lot better now,” Marcos replied, and moved a hand to gesture towards the Elf. “Probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Sabah.”

Sabah replied b waving her hand rather dismissively. “It was not me, Marcos, thank the healer.” She smiled warmly. “Though I guess you can thank me for keeping your stubborn head in check.” She then looked towards Callum and Soren. “While I’m up and getting something for Marcos, can I get anyone else something?”

Soren and Callum nodded, asking for her to get them some eggs and sausage.

“So, are you two, uhh…” Soren asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Marcos cleared his throat at the notion. “What? No. Sabah? She’s cool and all, but, I mean…”

“Why does it matter if she’s an elf?” Callum chimed in. “If that’s really all that’s holding you back…?” Callum might not be the best at relationship advice, but he knew better than anyone that being an Elf or a Human shouldn’t matter.

“I was going to say she’s _better_ ,” Marcos said, snickering, “but, thanks? I think?”

Callum likewise chuckled. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”

Sabah returned with four small plates – how she balanced it all, Callum couldn’t hazard a guess, but he, Soren, and Marcos all thanked her nonetheless. “Know the feeling about what, Prince Callum?” he asked, and Marcos seemed to turn away in discomfort.

“Oh, nothing,” Soren answered for him, chuckling at Marcos’ situation. The three of them started to get into a discussion, and Callum took the opportunity to have a look at the book that Ibis gave him.

The entire book seemed to be in Elvish, though the alphabet itself seemed eerily similar Katolic and Common Tongue.

That observation, however, did not make understanding the book itself any easier.

He hadn’t even gotten past the title.

_Nuvendi tel’Ther._

There was no way he would be making any progress on this book during the travel back to Katolis.

When he got back to Katolis, though? He was sure there would be a few translation books, to be sure.

He put that book away and instead reached for his sketch book. He flipped to his latest project, the one where he had his Mage Wings wrapped around Rayla, and they embraced each other just like they did when Callum jumped after her at the Spire.

He continued to work on the drawing as he ate his breakfast – _picked at it_ would be more of an apt description. In fact, he’d really been only _picking_ at his food for the past few days now, and not even been sleeping well – if at all.

Callum’s attention was drawn to Soren as he lightly punched the Prince’s arm.

“So, when you’re done there we’ll pick up where we left off yesterday?” Callum knew he was referring to their sword fighting lessons – something he’d promised Rayla.

“Yeah, just…” Callum replied, sighing. He set his breakfast down, which wasn’t even half-eaten. “Let’s just get it over with.”

“Nuh-uh!” Soren replied, shaking his head. “You haven’t been eating properly these past few days, Callum. Finish it up. Now.”

Callum gave off a half-smirk. “Okay, _mom_.” His joy subsided when he remembered the morbidity of the joke, both on his sake and Soren’s.

Soren responded by patting his shoulder. “Ah, come on. It was a good joke, and we all need a little humor now and then.” He paused, picking up Callum’s plate of food and handing it back to him. “But I’m being serious. You need your strength. When you’re done, I’ll be over there.”

Callum silently nodded as he picked up the half-eaten pork sausage and took another bite out of it. The prince turned his head to ask Marcos something, only to find that the log he and Sabah were sitting on were empty.

_Was I really out of it for that long?_

His eyes widened, as what he found in their place was none other than Bait, who gave him a croak.

Despite Soren’s words, Callum really wasn’t hungry. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Crownguard had his back turned, so he just nonchalantly slid his plate over to the glow toad, who, unsurprisingly, licked it clean in a matter of a second. If Callum didn’t pull away the plate, he was sure that it would have been gobbled up, too.

With his breakfast now eaten, though admittedly not by him, he went and grabbed his wooden sparring sword from his tent and walked up to meet up with Soren, who immediately garnered his usual, over-the-top fencing stance.

“Now, we’ll be going over parrying again, until you can get this.” Soren lightly lifted his sword in the air, and brought it down semi-slowly, though still with enough force that would require Callum to react quickly.

Reacting accordingly, Callum brought the sword up over his head. Still, however, he almost fell backwards, forcing himself to throw his own foot back to catch himself.

“Problem number one,” Soren said, regaining himself, “your footwork is all wrong.” He moved to reposition himself, bringing his sword upward. “Try this stance.”

Callum did as he was told, though there seemed to be a lack of motivation in his bones. He only hoped Soren wouldn’t notice.

It was evident he didn’t – or if he did, he just didn’t mention it – because the Crownguard just continued as normal. He brought the sword down in the same fashion he had before, and verbally explained to Callum to take note of how he hadn’t faltered like before.

Now Soren went to strike at the Prince’s side, and Callum instinctively moved to intercept it. He didn’t change his stance, however, and once again had to stop himself from toppling over.

“Callum, what’s going on?” Soren asked, bringing his own sword to his side.

“What do you mean?” Callum asked as innocently as he could. Soren could tell he was dodging the question.

“Every day you’ve been getting worse and worse.” He quickly threw his hand up. “Not at sword fighting! You’ve always been kinda-“ he trailed off, catching himself. “What I mean is, you’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”

Callum shrugged his shoulders. _Big Feelings Time?_ “I don’t know. I’m really only doing this because Rayla asked me to, and if I don’t I’d only make her upset.”

Soren crossed his arms, unimpressed with the answer. “Callum, you and I both know you haven’t been yourself for the past day or so, and that sword fighting doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

“I guess I just miss her.” Callum responded, sighing heavily as his shoulders shrunk.

Soren chuckled lightly. “I don’t know what kind of spell she has you under, but-“

Callum quickly lashed out. “She doesn’t have me under a spell!” _I love her!_ He wanted to add, but was just too fed up to even consider that right now.

Soren threw his hands up defensively. “I was making a _joke_ , Callum. But seriously. You’re right – she did ask you to do this, and not doing it would make her upset.” He paused, putting an arm on Callum’s tense shoulder. “But you know what would make her even _more_ upset? Doing this _only_ because she asked you to, and not giving a crap about the thing at all.”

Callum nodded. Soren did make a good point, and he remembered all too vividly his argument with Rayla.

_‘I can’t lose you, Callum! You’re all I have left!’_

The voice replayed in his head.

She was right. He really _was_ all she had left. As much as Ethari loved her, Callum could tell she wouldn’t soon forget how quickly her adoptive father abandoned her.

Well, she might have been a little overdramatic with the situation, as she did have Ezran, too – though, then again, _everybody_ had Ezran.

Callum chuckled to himself at the thought – that kid was just _too_ lovable. With a hardened resolve, he raised his sword once more, and charged at Soren.

| - | - | - | - |

It was about midday at the Spire when their newest prospect arrived. Rayla recalled his name from a letter they’d received yesterday – Bavarion.

True to the letter’s description, the Elf in question was large – even larger than Mansa. However, where Mansa was still relatively unrefined in a few areas, Bavarion was not. His muscled rippled through what little skin was exposed through his ornate plate mail, and he boasted a rather large axe to boot.

Rayla, however, was not the first to spar against him. Ibis suggested that honor should go to Mansa, and while the two elves went at each other, Ibis pulled the former assassin aside.

“Are you doing okay?” The Skywing elf asked, a large concern upon his demeanor. “You were completely silent at breakfast this morning, and barely even touched your meal.”

All he received in reply was a quick shrug.

Her dream still haunted her.

Ibis sighed, defeated. “I can tell you do not wish to discuss it, but should you have a change of heart, there are those here who would not hesitate to listen – myself included.” He gave her a warm, reassuring smile, which she tried her best to reciprocate.

As the Skywing mage left to his own study room, Rayla moved to witness the two beasts go at each other. Without any surprise, Bavarion seemed to have the upper hand.

Mansa had definitely given Rayla a run for her money, but that came from her experience, being about double Rayla’s age. Here, there was the same predicament, where Bavarion was almost double Mansa’s.

An untrained eye would interpret Bavarion as just another brute, swinging his axe wildly and with reckless abandon – however, any proper warrior could see there was purpose in his swings, and a method to his motions.

The Earthblood used this to his full advantage, however when Mansa seemed to have the upper hand for almost a split second, Bavarion changed his approach dramatically. With a flick of a button, his battle axe extended into a halberd, and he adopted a more defensive approach.

His new approach allowed Mansa to take on the offensive, which she excelled at. Bavarion, however, still met her blow-for-blow, and one could easily see his guard was all but impenetrable. In fact, Rayla can tell he was just biding his time, tiring Mansa out – waiting for her to make a mistake.

It took a few minutes, but that mistake did come. Mansa overextended on a swing, and to compensate, extended a foot to catch herself. Bavarion took full advantage of this, as he used his halberd to hook the Sunfire Elf’s foot, flip her on her back, and then send the weapon crashing into the stone beside her, dangerously close to her head.

“An’ there, lass, ye’d be dead.” The older Elf said, extending an arm. His voice carried a strong sense of command in it, even if his dialect was a bit difficult to understand. Rayla could, easily, as the Earthblood accent wasn’t much unlike that of a typical Moonshadow’s, though it was admittedly a little more guttural in nature and fluctuated in tone more often.

Mansa eagerly accepted the helping hand, and after she rose to her feet, wiped the large amount of sweat that formed on her brow. “I’ve never had a fight like that, Ser Bavarion. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

The Earthblood just chuckled under his helmet, and he raised the faceplate that donned his helm as a form of respect. “’Am just an ol’, grizzle Vet’, young’un, but te’ ansaer yer quest’un, learned it from fighten them Hum’n’s.”

Okay, _now_ Rayla was lost. She tried to wrap her brain to understand the Earthblood, and believed he said something about learning it from fighting Humans? _I guess that’s where he became a veteran_.

“-an’ if ye’ll tek sum advice from an ol’ bugga such as me’self,” he continued, “don’ overexten’ yerself like that. Leav’s too much ov’ an openin’.”

Mansa just blinked her eyes. Rayla could tell her mind was, like her own, trying to make sense of the Earthblood. “Uhh, right. Don’t… overextend?” It was more of a question than a statement, and she was visibly put at ease when she saw Bavarion nod at her.

“Aye, an’ don’ ye ferget it.” He held a warm smile as he walked off to drink some water, and Mansa walked over to Rayla.

“Are you understanding a word he is saying?” The Sunfire Elf asked quietly.

Rayla simply shook her head in response.

This was going to be a long month.

| - | - | - | - |

“Are you sure about this, Ez?” Callum said around the campfire. Crickets – or a cricket-like creature, anyway – were chirping away into the night, their silence-breaking sound only rivaled by the crackling of the fire before the King and his advisors.

Ezran sighed, looking down. “Honestly, no. I’m not.” He looked up to meet his gaze with his brother. “But do I think it can help? Yes. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to; it’s _your_ birthday, and I know how special that day is.”

Callum sighed. He looked around to the others sitting around him – to Soren, to Amaya, to Opeli, and then to Ezran. He knew his brother was just trying to salvage their delicate situation, but Callum also knew what he wanted for himself.

Well, what _he_ wanted was a bit on the impossible side.

“Alright.” Callum finally said.

Ezran beamed with excitement. “Really?!”

Callum simply shrugged. Was this really what he wanted? Well, no. It wasn’t. But this was for Ez. This was for Katolis. This was for the Pentarchy. This was for Ray-

Rayla wouldn’t be there.

 _No,_ he thought, _I’m doing this for Rayla, too._

He looked up and realized he was in his mind for a little longer than he’d anticipated, but Rayla did always have a way of dragging him out of the spiraling detours he took - whether she was with him in person, or not.

“Yes, Ez. I’m sure.” He said, finally. A swell of confidence overtook him, and he wasn’t quite sure where it came from, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he enjoyed it.

“ _Awesome_!” The young boy king exclaimed, and Callum chuckled to himself when he did. At the end of the day, this king truly was just a young kid at heart.

Opeli, however, didn’t seem to carry the same enthusiasm. “Your majesties,” she began, “while this is all well and good – and I truly mean that – by the time we reach the capital, it will be about a week before this festival would begin. One week is not enough time to gather all the necessities, to send out invitations to all the members of the Pentarchy – it’s not enough time to plan for how they might react.”

Silence.

She had a good point.

Callum, however, had another.

“I’ll go.” He said briefly. “I can fly, can’t I?”

‘What?!’ Amaya signed frantically. ‘You know that’s a-‘ Gren paused his translation briefly. Ever the diplomat, he found new words to fill the gap, even if he knew Callum and Ezran knew exactly what their aunt was saying. ‘You know that’s a _very bad_ idea, Callum.”

“Which is why we wait until we reach Lux Aurea?” His statement was more of a question, and he seemed to lose all the confidence he’d had just moments before. “It’s only a few days away, which will get us enough time to prepare for what needs to get done.” He paused, turning to Ezran. “Just get me a list of what needs to be done, and I’ll have everything ready by the time you guys get back.”

When Ezran started laughing, Callum shot him a look with shrugged shoulders that silently asked _‘What?’_ Seeing that, Ezran calmed himself down enough to give an answer, though he still chuckled between his words. “What, just so you can take all the credit?”

Callum sarcastically gasped, bringing a hand up to his chest in mock-offense. “I would never _dare_ , oh mighty King Ezran.”

Ezran almost immediately stopped, his demeanor changing, and he looked down into the crackling fire.

“Wh- what? Was it something I said?’ Callum asked, stumbling over his words for fear he offended his little brother.” If it was, I’m sorry.”

“You called me King.”

Callum blinked. “What?”

Ezran met his brother’s gaze, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “ _King_ Ezran.” The young boy looked back to the fire. “It just… sounds _weird_.” He took a long pause. “I guess I’m still just used to Dad being called it, not me.”

“Oh, Ez…” Callum mumbled, shifting himself to shit next to his brother. His arm reached around to have Ezran lean on his shoulder, and he slowly rubbed up and down the young boy’s back, soothing him.

They sat like that for a while.

| - | - | - | - |

It was a brisk evening in Serpentongue as Jarl Eivar wandered his city’s port.

Well, perhaps ‘brisk’ was a bit of an understatement.

It was _frigid_.

Being almost on top of the water would do that, though, and the city was nestled at the fork of the Serpentine River.

He walked up and down, inspecting his fleet. Some were his own vessels, but most were lent to him by the General- no, _King_ Haakon.

The Jarl’s silence was broken by one of his subordinates.

“My Jarl, the men are ready.”

Eivar grinned devilishly. “Good man. Tell the lads: ‘A new day is dawning, and the sun rises over the sea.’”

He was met with a closed fist to his chest in response. “Of course, my Jarl.” He then walked off.

Eivar couldn’t help but feel thrilled. This was his first raid in a long time- easily over a decade. He’d wished his old friends could come along, ol’ Iven and Haakon, but they had their own shit to do.

Just as he has his own.

They had all been preparing for a few days, what with having to repaint their shields, mismatch their armor slightly- all so that if they were caught, it couldn’t be traced back to Del Bar.

Even if they were compromised, he could count on Haak’ to bail him out.

Right?

“We’re all ready, m’lord.” The same soldier from before said, bringing the Jarl of Serpentongue back to his senses. “Men are still wanting to know the targets, though.”

Eivar responded with a slight chuckle. “Who’s to our south?”

The soldier pondered a moment, confused by his Lord’s response. “Uhh… Evenere, my Jarl?”

“Aye,” Eivar responded, grinning, “You’ve got half of it.”

“And… Katolis?” The warrior wasn’t sure whether to feel comforted or intimidated.

“That’s a good lad,” Eivar responded. “Half our ships will go Evenere, the other half to Katolis. Plenty of riches to be had between the both of them.” A pause. “Just don’t tell the men just yet. I want it to be a _surprise_.”

“I- oh, of course, my Jarl.” The servant bowed, and took his leave to find his station.

It was probably for the best that his warriors didn’t find out the nature of their quarry just yet. Despite being down on its luck, Katolis was still regarded as the biggest military powerhouse out of the entire Pentarchy- the most well trained, the most numerous, and the best equipped.

And a powerful leadership backbone, to boot.

Eivar took his place at the helm of his flagship, the _Icerunner_. It wasn’t the largest vessel out of the fleet – no, that honor belonged to the _Pride of Bar_ , a Drakkjar-class Dragon Ship – but the Icerunner was the largest out of Eivar’s own collection.

The Jarl took this time to look around him. Six hundred of his finest warriors, all spread between twenty longships of varying sizes. And now, they departed the docks in restless silence.

There were those who said that in joining the Pentarchy, Del Barrens had lost their way.

Well, this raid would remind the them who they were.

‘Come on, brother,” Eivar heard a female voice ring from his side, “care to raise our spirits with a song?”

“Sister!” Eivar said, greeting her. “It has been too long, Alskja, far too long!” He extended an arm, which she responded by grabbing his forearm. “Where have you been?”

“You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours!” She replied jovially. “It _is_ tradition, you know.”

Eivar laughed heartily- something he was famous for. “Tradition _my ass_! But, well, I’ll indulge the men anyway.” He grinned. “But you’ll owe me a drink, and a damn story!”

Alskja punched Eivar’s arm lightly, out of jest. “Sure, whatever, you _oaf_!”

The Jarl walked up to the mast of the ship, and called for his warriors’ attention.

“Alright lads!” He shouted, drawing his sword. His men looked up in anticipation, some grinning.

They knew what was about to happen.

_“Now we are ready to head for the Horn  
 **Way, hay, roll an' go**  
Our boots an' our clothes boys are all in the pawn  
 **To be rollicking randy dandy-O**_

**_Heave a pawl, o heave away  
Way, hay, roll an' go  
The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored  
To be rollicking randy dandy-O_ **

_Man the stout caps'n an' heave with a will  
 **Way, hay, roll an' go**  
Soon we'll be drivin' her 'way down the hill  
 **To be rollicking randy dandy-O**_

**_Heave a pawl, o heave away  
Way, hay, roll an' go  
The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored  
To be rollicking randy dandy-O_ **

_Soon we'll be warping her out through the locks  
 **Way, hay, roll an' go**  
Where the pretty young gals all come down in their flocks  
 **To be rollicking randy dandy-O**_

**_Heave a pawl, o heave away  
Way, hay, roll an' go  
The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored  
To be rollicking randy dandy-O_ **

_We're outward bound for the Weeping Bay  
 **Way, hay, roll an' go**  
Get crackin', m' lads, 'tis a hell o' a way  
 **To be rollicking randy dandy-O**_

**_Heave a pawl, o heave away_  
Way, hay, roll an' go  
The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored  
To be rollicking randy dandy-O!”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thoughts on this chapter:  
> -This time, Rayla has a nightmare, and there's no significant other to bring her back to her senses (sad Rayllum hours). Her mind works a bit differently than Callum's so she's bound to interpret things just slightly differently.  
> -Small bit of Marcos x Sabah here! (Sabcos? Marcbah?) Also, Callum picking up his sword training (or attempting to, anyway!)  
> -Enter Bavarion, and my (probably horrible) attempt at a Welsh accent to accompany him! Ever since I dabbled in my 'extremely Scottish Rayla' (and failed), I've been tempted to do it again. General consensus was to not do it again, so I did y'all one better: I brought in a new character as an excuse to do it anyway! xD. Though, if he gets to be too much, I'm going to post 'translations' for what I mean him to say in the End Notes.  
> -Some more general Katolis politics in this scene. Callum offering to go ahead and fly to Katolis to prepare everything, and Amaya switching into protective-mama-bear mode.  
> -Jarldom of Serpentongue on the march! Or on the sail? On the row?- Either way, a SEA SHANTY for all m'lads! Introducing Jarl Eivar's sister, Alskja. I'm aiming for Ruffnut & Tuffnut (How to Train your Dragon) levels of vibes here with these two, so let me know if you want to see more!
> 
> As always,  
> Leave kudos if you enjoyed, and leave comments if you have something to say! I don't care what you say, whether its constructive, appreciative, etc.! And if you just have something horrible to say, I'll just throw a cringe meme at you and call it a day :D
> 
> Yours truly,  
> IronsideHeldenhammer
> 
> \-----  
> Posted: 16 Oct 2020


	7. When Tomorrow Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three more champions arrive at the Storm Spire to test their mettle, and for a chance to join the illustrious Dragonguard.  
> Baldur learns more about his step-mother, and Lux Aurea holds a celebratory feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you all so much for the support, comments, and kudos! It means so much!
> 
> Okay... I'm an idiot!  
> I had this chapter prepared to post last night, but i had a major brain fart and just forgot to post it. Sorry!
> 
> Anyway, results of the poll are in: the winner for the next project is 'the Dragonguard,' an AU that asks: "What if Runaan was convinced to call off the mission to kill King Harrow and Ezran?" Expect canon to be left lying in a ditch :D  
> (No word on when that'll come out)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this VERY lengthy chapter! Just over 9k words, and 20 pages of it on my Word document!

| - | - | - | - |

Thirteen days following the Battle at the Storm Spire

Rayla woke up panting, sweating.

She woke up _scared_.

She looked out the window and sighed heavily.

 _Still nighttime_ , she thought to herself. _Well, might as well get up now. Not going back to sleep anytime soon, anyway._

Rayla splashed herself with the cold water of the washbasin in her room, staring at herself in the mirror.

_Same damn dream again. I really need to get a grip of myself._

She almost jumped when she heard a light knock on her door.

 _“Ye’ up, cap’n?”_ A hushed voice, so as not to disturb the sleep she _should_ be in, but isn’t.

“Yeah, Bav’, I’m up,” she replied sheepishly, walking over to the door. She opened it up to see Bavarion, donned in his personal armor. No one wore the Dragon Guard armor, as, technically, there _were_ no Dragonguard. Rayla was only temporary, and Mansa and Bavarion were only prospects. “What’s up?”

“A’s afreid A’d wake ye’, but seein’ as yer arredy awake, ain’t got nuthin’ te’ worry aboot.” He chuckled until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of Rayla’s room - he had tonight’s watch, so it had been dark, but nothing compares to the darkness of a Moonshadow’s chambers – and he saw the bags underneath Rayla’s eyes. “ _Gads_ , kid, ye’ arrite?”

Rayla nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah, I’m _fine_ ,” she said, more for her sake than Bavarion’s. “What is it?”

“Well, ‘tree more recruis’ came in.” He rested himself on the bridge of his axe. “’Nother Moonshadow named Taoghan, some Skywing callin’ ‘imself _Hen_ , and, well…” he trailed off, then paused.

Rayla tilted her head in confusion. “Who else? You said three, right?”

“Aye, ‘tree.” He paused again, then shrugged his shoulders. Well, thin’ is, I’s the Princess.”

Rayla cocked an eyebrow. “Princess? Of…?”

“Ignes Alinoria.”

Rayla nearly choked on her own spit. “Princess Aerra?” She jolted back into her room, fumbling to throw her assassin armor on, with Bavarion walking a bit into the hallway to give her some privacy. “She’s _here_?”

“Aye, an’ frum wha’ A can tell, against the better wishes of ‘er fathah.”

Rayla exhaled uncomfortably. “Well… _this_ is a political disaster just _waiting_ to happen, isn’t it?”

She could hear Bavarion shrug as his armor plating shifted, echoing lightly in the hallway. “Well, ‘least A ain’t the cap’n,” he said, chuckling. “A arredy got Mansa workin’ with the other two, but Aerra’s with the King-Regent an’ Queen in the main hall, waitin’ fer ye’.”

Rayla had her armor on in a matter of seconds. She’d been drilled in these occurances before, by Runaan, but even she had to admit that those drills were for _far_ different circumstances.

“Good luck in ther’, cap’n,” Bavarion said, starting to walk off, “I think yer gonna need it.” He lightly chuckled to himself.

“Oh, _wow_ , thanks for the vote of confidence, you _old fart_!” Rayla said in mock offense. All she received in reply was a hearty laugh echoing from the end of the hallway.

She smiled as she walked down the hallway, and she was already feeling better.

Bavarion seemed to have that effect on people – just that old, funny, weird grandpa in the family that everyone loved unconditionally. Her smile beamed even brighter at the thought as she reached the main hall, and she almost forgot about her horrible dream for the past few days.

 _Almost_.

However, before her mood could change, an all-too familiar low, dreadful voice greeted her first.

“Good morning, Lady Rayla.”

Rayla bowed. “Good morning, Lord Solla Ferum, Queen Zeubei-AHH!” She was thrown to the ground, and soon a fury of licks ravaged her face. “Good morning, Zym!” She received a short, happy bark in reply.

“Prince Azymondias…” Solla Ferum began, beckoning the young prince to regain his posture. The Dragon Prince gave off a saddened whine as he got off of the Moonshadow Elf.

“Oh, I don’t mind, your Excellence,” she said, picking herself up from the ground. “Helps me stay on my toes, and wake me up in the morning.” She giggled lightly as she turned to face the Sunfire Elf, with a large blade in a runic scabbard strapped to her back, in the room and awkwardly bowed her head. “Princess Aerra.”

The Sunfire princess returned a curtsy. “Lady Rayla.”

All Rayla could do was give off a crooked, half-hearted smile and nod in acknowledgement.

 _Wait,_ she thought, _why am I being like this to her? She’s a princess… she deserves more respect_.

The more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t shake this feeling of… apprehension? No, that wasn’t right.

_It’s just… the way she looked at Callum at the delegations…_

She widened her eyes. Was she…?

_No! I’m not jealous! I am not going down that route!_

_The way she winked at him…_

_No! Gods damnit, Rayla, get out of your-_

“Lady Rayla?”

Rayla coughed. “Umm, yes?” She looked around the room briefly. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even know who was speaking to her.

Apparently it was the Dragon Queen, as she held the same tone as she finished her question. “Are you… okay?”

The young former assassin cleared her throat, and rather too quickly. “Oh, uuh, yes! Of course I am, your Excellence.”

Solla Ferum could smell the deception, though no ill intent behind it, so he decided to not comment. Instead, he returned to the matter at hand. “Well, we were discussing the matter of the Princess Aerra, and her wishes to join the Dragonguard.” A pause. “Well, what do you say, Lady Rayla? You are, after all, the one in charge of rebuilding this once illustrious order.”

“I- well…” Rayla started, but then stopped. She _wanted_ to say they’d gladly take her, but doing so might anger her father King Aurorion. Taking the Dragon’s Oath absolved an Elf from any and all familial obligations and inheritance, and it was a position held for life.

And considering Aerra was Aurorion’s only child, well… that complicated matters.

“I understand the complications this might bring, your Excellences,” Aerra began, breaking the silence, “But I am fully aware that this is what I want.” A pause, as she looks down towards the floor, seemingly out of shame. “I’ve already had a… _heated_ discussion with my Lord-Father about this topic.”

Queen Zubeia huffed, which Rayla took as a form of sigh. “But, young one, you must take into account your father’s point of view.”

The mighty Sun Dragon nodded his head in agreement. “Yes. You are his only child; the sole heir to his kingdom. Without you, who else would take up the throne of Ignes Alinoria?”

The Alinorian Princess scratched her head. Her face held a look of… déjà vu? _Was that even a_ face _someone could have_? Whatever the case, she carried herself like she’d in fact heard those very words before, and Rayla could hazard a guess as to where.

“Regardless, I do not believe we are even in a position to decline.” Solla Ferum said, lowering his head. “I’m afraid Old Xadian law does not permit the Dragonguard to turn down potential Prospects – especially during times of crisis.” His tone was neutral; simply that of an analytical standpoint.

Rayla looked down, pondering the possibilities. If this was true, then what was the conversation even about? Their hands would be tied as they took the Princess on as a Prospect – and nothing says she actually has to _pass_ the trials, anyway.

And then her mind when to the King-Regent’s last word. _Crisis_. What crisis? The war was over, she thought? Or was everything she and Callum, and also Ezran and Zym, went through for naught? Did the Sun Dragon openly deceive them?

No, that couldn’t be. Solla Ferum was much like his older brother, the former king Sol Regem, in terms of personality – either for better or for worse. This included his straightforwardness: if Solla Ferum wanted war with the Humans, he would have burned them all alive in the Storm Spire.

“While this peace may seem a boon for all,” the mighty Dragon explained, “there will be those who refuse to accept it. Rather, there will be those who will do everything within their power to make sure that this strenuous peace treaty fails, and that we once again return to open warfare – on _both_ sides of the border.”

Queen Zubeia nodded in agreement. “Yes, I see what you are saying.” She paused, then looked to Rayla. “And with our Dragonguard in the… weakened state that it finds itself in, there will be those on _our_ side who may attempt to threaten our Xadian unity just for war with the Humans.” A pause. “And not to mention the length the Humans may go to if the Dragonguard are too weak to protect the Draconic royalty.”

Now, Solla Ferum moved his large head to face the Sunfire Princess. “So, as you might see our predicament, we are in need of allies anywhere we might be able to get them – and the Kingdom of Ignes Alinoria is one such ally we need if we are to keep this peace together.”

“Yes,” Zubeia concurred. “You of all must know how against your Lord-Father is of any form of agreements with the humans. You might be the counter to his… _stubbornness_ , shall we say?”

Aerra opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Solla Ferum politely cut her off. “Before you speak, Princess Aerra, we need you to understand that your decision here will drastically change your life. You are, if I remember correctly, only seventeen years of age – and you are about to make a decision that you cannot alter.” A slight pause. “So, you must answer for not only us, but four yourself: is this _truly_ what you want?”

Rayla could see the conflict in Aerra’s orange eyes, even from the decent distance that they were standing apart. She slugged her shoulders over, which caused a loose, long dreadlock of her black hair to follow suit. Rayla felt a form of… pity? No, that’s not right.

Well, whatever that feeling is, it was certainly better than that unexplained jealousy- No. _Not_ jealousy. Rayla would never admit _that_.

However, almost as soon as Aerra’s demeanor slackened, she regained her strengthened posture once more. She looked Solla Ferum directly in his crimson eyes. “Yes, Lord-Dragon. I am sure.”

If a dragon could sigh and smile at the same time, Solla Ferum most definitely would have done just that. “Very well. As a prospect, you will remain Princess Aerra, but if you swear upon the Dragon’s Oath, you will simply just be Aerra.” When he received a nod in reply, he turned his head to Rayla. “And, speaking of Prospects, I believe we have two more waiting for us in the lobby. Lady Rayla, if you please?”

Rayla nodded, putting a closed fist over her chest. “Of course, your Excellence.” She turned to leave the main hall, and sighed in relief. It was so… tense? And then it wasn’t? Then it was again? Rayla dreaded _any_ interaction with the Lord-Dragon, Solla Ferum. He just had that sort of effect on, well, _everything_.

When she entered the sparring chambers, she was met with Mansa fending off two other Elves – each fitting the respective description that Bavarion had briefly given her.

She first saw the Skywing Elf, who, like Nyx, had wings. Callum told her that having wings was rare among the Skywings, so he would most definitely be an asset to the Dragonguard if he passed his trials. She saw him going blow-for-blow against Mansa – at least when she wasn’t simultaneously fighting the other Elf – with his spear

She remembered Bavarion saying his name was Hen – or, at least, that’s what he said he called himself. It was a strange name, even for a Skywing. Maybe it was short for something?

Then there was the other Moonshadow Elf, apart from Rayla. He seemed to be about Bavarion’s age, if not a bit younger, and his white hair was running down to about his elbows. If it wasn’t for his unique weapon, Rayla could have sworn she was staring at an older Runaan.

Well, his weapon, and also his kilt.

Kilts were a staple among the Moonshadow Highlanders, which occupied the western mountains in the Moonshadow territory. Their largest settlement was the Ebonvale, so Rayla could surmise he hailed from there.

His weapon of choice, as Rayla noted to herself before, was incredibly unique. At first glance, one would assume it to be a staff of some sorts, but upon closer inspection one can see that it was, in fact, two swords merged into one. These blades were also crafted in the traditional Highlander fashion, resembling claymores.

Like his weapons, this Elf’s fighting style was also incredibly personalized. When he fought Mansa, it was almost like the two were in a form of dance. Taoghan, if Rayla remembered correctly, was twirling his dual-bladed claymore staff in a crisscross motion, and it was fast enough to look like it was, instead, just a grey circle.

Eventually Taoghan struck at Mansa’s back with the lower end of his staff-blade, which she blocked by bringing her sword over her head and extending it to spread across her back. Almost instantly, Taoghan responded by bringing the upper half of his weapon to strike at Mansa’s exposed torso, but she likewise reacted by parrying with her blade once again, and she then pushed the older Moonshadow Elf’s weapon away with sheer strength.

She eventual reached over her head to bring down a very powerful swing, but Taoghan moved the hilt of his weapon to intercept the strike, in fact hooking Mansa’s pommel. Taoghan then shoved forward, having Mansa hit herself in the face with her own hands and sword hilt.

Dazed, Mansa was unable to react when Taoghan swung around on the heel of his foot, using the momentum to demonstrate a stab to Mansa’s stomach. At that point, she conceded the fight.

They then started to talk amongst themselves until Rayla cleared her throat.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Rayla said smirking, placing a hand on her hip, “but the King and Queen want to see the two other Prospects.”

Taoghan nodded, splitting his sword-staff in half and returning two claymores to a pair of crossed sheathes on his back.

Hen’s response was… _strange_. Rayla wasn’t exactly the best at reading people, but she could tell he held a sense of fear in his eyes. _Fear of what_?

“C’mon, you heard the Boss,” Mansa said, lightly punching Hen’s arm. His demeanor did not change, and he carried himself as if he was going to die if he entered the main hall.

When he passed Rayla, not even daring to meet her eyes for some reason, she pats him on the shoulder where Mansa punched him. “Come on, Solla Ferum ain’t all _that_ scary. Trust me.”

He stopped abruptly as they came to the entrance of the hall. “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”

For some reason, that sent a chill down Rayla’s spine.

Relieving Mansa to catch up on the rest she was likely disturbed from also, the two Moonshadows and the Skywing all entered the main hall, where Princess Aerra and the two Dragon monarchs were waiting.

Rayla noted that Hen didn’t even bring his gaze to meet either Dragon, instead keeping his head to the floor, with his long, rosewood red hair hanging in shame past his shoulder blades.

“King Regent Solla Ferum, Queen Zubeia, may I present to you Ser Taoghan of the Ebonvale,” Raya said, extending her hand to introduce the older Moonshadow Elf. When introduced, Taoghan bowed before them.

Rayla then brought her hand to point at Hen. “And this is Hen-“

“ _Hendyr_.” Queen Zubeia cut Rayla off, needing no introductions. “You would _dare_ show your face here?!”

Everyone, including Solla Ferum, was now confused. “Queen Zubeia, is something wrong?” The Lord Dragon asked, concerned for Zubeia’s sudden aggression – something she was completely unknown for.

“This Skywing Elf was a previous member of the Dragonguard.” She brought her face dangerously close to Hen, almost threatening to shower him in a torrent of lightning. “One of the ones who _ran away_ after the death of my mate.” Her voice was now a low growl – and Rayla shared in her anger.

Solla Ferum nudged Zubeia slightly, which enticed her to back off, though she did not tear her deathly gaze from him. “Is this true, Hendyr?” When the Skywing gave no answer, Solla Ferum brought his nose to Hendyr, smelling him. “You are afraid. That is all the answer I need.” He then turned to Rayla. “Captain, what is the punishment for desertion?”

“ _Death_.” Rayla answered curtly, staring directly at Hendyr’s slackened demeanor.

“I should never have come here,” is all Hendyr managed to mumble in reply.

“You should never have abandoned ma’ parents!!” Rayla retaliated, rushing over to the Skywing who brought his confused eyes to meet Rayla’s furious ones.

After a few seconds, realization dawned on him. “So it _is_ true?”

The former assassin shoved Hendyr away, who easily caught his balance. “What’s _true_ is that you’re a filthy _traitor!_ ” She then furiously brought her index finger to poke at Hendyr’s chest. “They’re _dead_ because of you!”

“Traitor?!” Hendyr screams, seemingly offended. “You, the daughter of two batshit insane idealists, have the audacity to call _me_ a traitor? When you’re the one who _lay_ with a _praedo_?!”

That was enough to bring Rayla’s fist smashing into his skull.

“Lady Rayla!” Solla Ferum’s voice boomed throughout the hall. “While I understood your frustration, your actions are out of line. Rest assured, judgement _will_ be passed - but not here.”

For possibly the first time, and probably the last time, Zubeia barks at Solla Ferum in retaliation. “Lord Solla Ferum! My mate is _dead_ , because of this deserter!”

“Your mate is dead because of the dark mage _Viren_ , Queen Zubeia, whom was killed by our Lady Rayla here and avenged our late King,” the Lord Dragon says, attempting to reason with the Dragon Queen and placate her anger. “However, your son was stolen because of this deserter, and for _that_ , he shall be punished.”

Rayla squirmed at the mention of _his_ name, and the statement she killed him. But, did she, though? They never found his body, after all.

Zubeia was not satisfied, though she did not seek to challenge any further. “Then, Lord Dragon, please explain what you mean when you say that judgement will not be passed here.”

“I mean exactly that.” Solla Ferum replied curtly, turning his gaze to the Skywing Elf in question. “I refuse to stain this ground with the blood of a traitor.” His attention turned towards the Princess of Ignes Alinoria. “Princess Aerra, I trust you did not arrive alone?”

She shook her head. “No, Lord Dragon. My retinue, which I took at my father’s ‘request,’ sits at the base of this mountain.” She spoke the word ‘request’ as if she had meant to say ‘demand.’

“Good. If you would allow, I would ask them to escort Hendyr here to the capital of the Skywing Elves, the city of Caerrus, for summary execution.”

The Princess nodded. “It would be our honor for Ignes Alinoria to escort this criminal to justice.” She then turned her attention to the Skywing Elf in question. “Ser Hendyr, if you please?” She asked, gesturing for the Skywing to exit with her, which he did.

The tension did not leave the room with them.

| - | - | - | - |

It was strange for the sky to glow a deep amber and not give off any light at all, but it did exactly that - and it was only noon.

It was evident to Callum that something truly _horrible_ must have happened to the once-great capital of the northernmost Sunfire Elf nation for it to be in such a state.

The closer they got to Lux Aurea, the darker the skyline became. It almost reminded him of the perpetual twilight of the Silvergrove.

Almost.

The lack of trees anywhere, alongside the whole darkness-spreading-into-the-very-air deal from the Sunforge, made it very much _not_ like the Silvergrove.

There was a small host of Elven soldiers outside the city. They seemed on-alert, presumably so by the appearance of a large Human army marching towards their walls, however they were put at ease when they saw the General Janai ride forward with a few of her lieutenants.

“ _Your Radiance_ ,” one of the soldiers says, “We are so relieved you survived-“

“Please, do _not_ call me your Radiance,” Janai cuts him off, her voice holding a tone of defeat. “That was my sister’s title. And now… my sister is _dead_.”

The soldier cocks his head in confusion, but has little choice other than to honor her request. “But, you _are_ the Queen, right General- err, _Queen_ Janai?”

“Don’t remind me…”

“Yes, well, I believe,” Commander Gren started to say on behalf of Amaya, though was abruptly stopped by another Sunfire Elf.

“Oh, umm, I see you have another translator…” this Elf said, looking down.

Janai just regarded them with confusion. “Kazi? What are you doing here? Most of the civilians had been evacuated to the surrounding countryside already.”

“Um, well, you see,” they stammered, unsure of what to say. “I knew that if you returned, it would likely be with the, uhh, Human general, so I figured she might need a translator? But I see she already has one?”

“Commander Gren here has been at my side since the very beginning,” Amaya signed with Gren relaying the message verbally. “While I thank you for your hard work, Gren is one of the best.” He smiled warmly as he turned to Amaya. “Aw, thanks, General!”

Callum, however, was confused. A Sunfire Elf that understood Sign? “I’m sorry,” he began, looking at a confused Kazi, “but I have to ask. You know Katolian Sign?”

“Oh, I am fluent if over four languages,” they said rather proudly, “KSL just happens to be one of them.”

Callum’s eyes beamed. “Would High Elven happen to be one of them as well?” He asked his question a little too hopefully.

“Why yes, of course it would. Any Elf who studies linguistics is taught the language of our ancestors.” They tilted their head. “Why do you ask?”

Callum practically jumped out of excitement. “Okay, I feel like we’re going to become best friends soon. See, I _need_ to learn Elven because-“ he cut himself off. _I probably shouldn’t explain exactly why._ “Well, not _need_ , more like, kind of have to? With, uhh, the peace, we’re probably gonna need to communicate in Elven from time to time?” He hoped his lie wasn’t as obvious as it sounded.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly a lie – it just wasn’t the reason _he_ wanted to learn the language.

Kazi seemed to share Callum’s initial excitement. “Ooo! It will be perfect! And you can show me some of the minute details of Katolian Sign?”

Callum smiled, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by Amaya and Gren. “But don’t forget, Callum, that after we rest for the night, you need to fly back to the Capital.”

 _Oh right._ Callum may have forgotten that tiny detail in his excitement.

Kazi scratched the back of their head. “Just one day? Well, I don’t know what we can cover in that short time, but I’m sure I have one of my old textbooks I could loan you? I would just need it back.”

Ezran poked his head up, deciding to join the conversation. “Well, there’s also the question of what _we_ should do. While you’re learning an entirely new language – which I think is _awesome_ , by the way – the rest of us aren’t gonna have much to do.”

“I propose a feast, of sorts.” Aanya chimes in, sitting high atop her white stallion. “It would an excellent way to pass the time. We get to celebrate the _hopefully_ lasting peace between Humans and Xadia, and we can all use an excuse to lift our spirits.”

For a moment, everyone seemed to contemplate the idea.

Janai was the first one to break the silence. “While I agree an event like that would be beneficial, Lux Aurea does not really have the means nor supplies to provide such a gathering,” she said, looking behind her to the host of Duren’s Folk numbering easily in the thousands. “This would, realistically speaking, be quite a logistical nightmare.”

“Have no fear, Queen Janai,” Aanya said, sounding rather confident, “the Kingdom of Duren can handle the supplies, if Lux Aurea can provide the location. When planning to march forth, we grabbed many extra supplies, so we have a bit to spare.” She paused, her demeanor changing to that of a more serious nature. “We just have to take care not to waste.”

After another pause, Janai spoke once more, attempting her best to appear as regal as she could. “Then I believe it is decided. Humans and Elves shall dine as one this night.” A smile broke on her face.

| - | - | - | - |

It had been a few days now, and he still couldn’t find her.

Baldur was practically driving himself insane trying to find Svana after he – well, after the _incident_.

_No. I have to own up to it. I almost sucker punched my own little sister._

Baldur knew she hadn’t left Hinterpeak. If she had, the Del Bar would have entered a whole state of emergency. That, and Uncle Haakon probably would have gone apeshit on him by now.

Either way, he had to find her. He _had_ to, and soon. And there was only one person left who might have an idea where Svana might be.

Lissa.

Their _step_ -mother.

Because there _was_ a distinction with a _step_ -parent.

However, as much as he _wanted_ to – no, _needed_ , because he did not _want_ to – knock on the door to Lissa’s chambers, he just couldn’t bring himself to.

The fact remained - he never went to Lissa for _anything_.

He was uncomfortable. Anxious, even. How would he approach this? How _could_ he approach his?

_Hi, not-mom! I almost punched my sister in the face a few days ago and now I can’t find her. Do you know where she ran off to?_

Because _that_ would surely go over well.

“Fuck it,” he said, rather more verbally than he would have liked. He positioned himself at the door, and brought a light fist, shaking rather noticeably, up to knock on it.

He still wasn’t mentally prepared for this – or, well, _anything_ if he was being honest – so he jumped when the door creaked open before his hand made contact with the wooden door.

“Baldur?” Came Lissa’s voice, somewhat confused. “I thought I heard something, but…” she trailed off, then stopped when she saw him in visible distress. “What’s wrong?” She asked, opening the door fully, now. She seemed more… firm, now? “Is this about Svana?”

He absentmindedly nodded in response, and held his head low in shame.

“Come inside, then,” she suggested, gesturing for him to follow her. She pulled up two chairs. “Tell me everything that’s going on. I only have her side of the story.”

He froze for a second as he sat down. If she did, then her tone of disappointment was not unfounded.

Well, it really was his fault for overreacting, anyway. He probably deserved the scorn.

And then there was the issue of how to start.

It was completely stupid, it really was. Your first instinct is to punch your little sister in the face for catching you about to kiss someone who you had previously only thought was just teasing you?

Completely stupid.

However, he’d come here for a reason. No matter how stupid it was, he did tell her. He told her _everything_. From missing his grandfather _and_ father, to Briagé comforting him, to Svana, and to his conversation with Uncle Hjarrold.

When he finished recounting the events, Lissa could only sigh in response. It took her a minute to come up with a proper reply.

“She never told me why you and Briagé were about to share a moment together,” she admitted, “only what transpired as she saw it.” Lissa paused, placing a comforting hand on the Crown Prince’s knee, which is something she was sure his own mother would do.

Because that’s something she _had_ to be right now, for him.

His mother.

There was an awkward silence that followed, neither one sure of where to continue.

It was Baldur that broke it, in the end.

“I take it you were where she ran off to?” He asked almost hesitantly. He probably didn’t even need an answer – Lissa’s quarters was in the direct path of where Svana ran to.

She nodded. “You assume correct.” She paused when he did not push further. “I feel that troubles you. Does it?”

What followed was another lengthy silence after he silently nodded. He was ashamed to say that it did, but he was also hurt that Svana would so easily abandon the woman that birthed her for another.

Lissa sensed his distress, but did not know how to properly address it. However, she knew she still had to try.

“Did you know my marriage to your father was not… my first union?”

Her question struck Baldur like a brick. He didn’t, in fact. He had no clue, and he suspected Svana didn’t, either. He narrowed his eyes, but then the realization dawned that if that were public knowledge, it might cause an uproar. So, in response to her question, he simply shook his head.

“My first husband was…” she paused, looking for the correct adjectives to describe him. Baldur noticed her face contort, as if with regret. “An evil man,” she managed to finally say. “A _vile_ man.”

Baldur tilted his head. “Then… why…?”

She sighed. His question was a valid one. “Because, I did not know. I thought he cared for me as much as I cared for him.” Now, her face went from regret to downright anger. “I only found out when I stumbled upon his… _experiments_.” She carried the last word with such scorn, and Baldur was almost taken back. Although the Prince didn’t really care for Lissa, he knew her to be kind and caring.

This new tone completely threw his perception of her off balance. “What… experiments?”

“ _Dark Magic_.” She said, as plainly as she could. “He used it to save my son, but… it was still dark magic..”

Baldur’s eyes widened. She was married once before _and_ she had a son? He supposed it made sense, though. If you were married, kids kind of came into the equation eventually.

“So, I confronted him about it. I gave him a choice.” Her anger subsided, instead returning to the regret she carried earlier. “He could keep his magic, or he could keep his wife.”

It didn’t take Baldur long to figure out her old husband chose.

Baldur cleared his throat, finally managing the courage to speak up. “What about… your son?”

“I didn’t have just a son. I also have a daughter.” She sighed, reaching for a glass of water that rested on her table. “I also gave them the choice of whether to come with me, or not.”

Again, it didn’t take much to figure out their choice.

“I… I’m sorry…” was all the Crown Prince could conjure up in response.

Lissa sighed heavily. “It… wasn’t your fault. I should have seen Vi- _him_ , for the monster he was.” She had cut herself off before, almost giving away the name of the man in question.

Baldur didn’t seem to catch it.

“I never had the chance to be a mother,” Lissa explains, “a _real_ mother.” She paused slightly before continuing. “So that is what I tried to be for your sister. For both of you.”

Baldur gulped slightly. He had no idea what this woman had gone through. If he’d only known, maybe he wouldn’t –

His thoughts were broken when she continued to speak again. “You… made it clear you did not want to replace your own mother. I respected that, so I did not push the issue any further. You were only ten at the time, and your sister was eight. The pain was still fresh in your minds.” She sighed, the conversation seeming to tire her – but not bore, no, not tire in a bad way. “Whereas you did not seek it, your sister did, so I did the best I could to try to provide for her, and care for her as if she were my own daughter… my Claudia…”

Baldur closed his eyes. _So her daughter’s name is Claudia? Why does it sound so familiar…?_

“In hindsight, I feel I gave Svana a little _too_ much,” she said, only half-joking. “In my… desperation to be a good mother to _someone_ , I provided your father’s only daughter with a little too much, which is why she’s a little…” she paused, trying to find the right word.

“Spoiled?” Baldur finished for her, almost a bit matter-of-factly.

“ _Privileged_ ,” Lissa said, correcting him. “And sensitive.”

Now it was Baldur’s turn to exhale due of the stress of the situation.

“I… I’m sorry…” was all he was able to croak. He really didn’t know what to say – what could _anyone_ say to something like this, when you spent your whole life pushing someone away and you didn’t even know what happened to them before they came into your life?

“It’s okay, Baldur,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. She gave him a warm smile, obviously putting on as much of a brave face as she could – recounting her story had likely taken a toll on her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

But he did. He _did_ have things to apologize for. He held his head low, not daring to meet her gaze.

He felt Lissa stand up and pull Baldur into a tight hug – something he didn’t want to admit that he needed right now – and attempt her best to comfort him as best she could. “I know I’m not Thorunn, and I’ll never replace her, but I’m not asking _to_ replace her – I never was.”

That was enough to send Baldur over the edge. He only cried a few occasions in his life, as he never really liked to, but hearing the name of his mother was enough to entice a few tears to manifest themselves from his eyes.

He can’t even remember the last time he’d heard his mother’s name spoken – it had to at least be a few years. Ever since her death, his father rarely talked about her, so Baldur only had second-hand knowledge to go on from his uncles, or those who knew her.

“Shhhh,” Lissa said, trying to calm down the Crown Prince, “It’s okay.”

Except it wasn’t.

But it _could_ be.

Maybe he could never get _his_ mother back, but maybe he could get _a_ mother.

It’s definitely something he’d be willing to try.

| - | - | - | - |

Although his internal clock told him it was getting towards midnight, the horizon hadn’t given any inclination to confirm his suspicions – it just remained the crimson twilight it had been for, presumably, the past two weeks.

Although, Marcos had to admit, he wasn’t really trying to keep track of time, anyway. He was distracted throughout most of the day, and his mind seemed fixated only on one thing – well, one _person_.

 _Sabah_.

He finally came to terms with how he felt for the Sunfire Elf the other night. They shared a rather lengthy gaze at each other, though Marcos was the first to break away. He doesn’t know why it just _clicked_ then, but it did.

That was two days ago, now, and they haven’t spoken since.

To Marcos, those two days felt like an eternity. They’d spent the majority of the march with each other, and rarely were separated for a good length of time.

Marcos was afraid he scared her away, then and there.

In the short time he’d known her, he learned Sabah was a very well-spoken and well-mannered individual, highly disciplined, but also had a great sense of humor to boot.

There was also the undeniable fact that she was, well – _stunning_.

That particular thought made Marcos blush right on the spot, and he quickly threw his Crownguard helm on his head in an attempt to cover up his crimson face.

He tried – he _pleaded_ – to get his mind to think of other things, to not think of _her_.

_She probably doesn’t even feel the same way. I was just her patient – well not really, since she isn’t a healer - who sort of became friends with me. Yeah, that’s it – we’re just friends._

He cursed his mind for not being able to _not_ think of Sabah.

 _It probably wouldn’t work out, anyway. She’d have to stay here, and I’d have to go back to Katolis_.

Gods, how he wished to know how his Crown Prince and that Moonshadow managed their situation.

 _Hmph. That Moonshadow._ Now his mind finally had a separate topic. _The one who spared me. What was her name? Rayla? She and Prince Callum seem nice enough for each other_.

“Hey Marcos! You good?” He turned around to see Soren calling him, leaning on a wall. “Come on, everything’s ready – the whole dinner thing is gonna be starting soon.”

Marcos nodded. “Yeah, I’m good,” he called back. He started to make his way towards the blond, though he winced when a small pain shot through his leg. “I’ll… I’ll be there. Don’t wait up for me!”

Soren, however, did not budge, simply cocking his head in confusion. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seemed pretty _not_ okay just now.”

Marcos wished he could hide it, but he couldn’t. Sabah had always been there to make sure he’d taken his necessary medications and painkillers that the _actual_ healer prescribed him so he would be in tip-top shape for most of the time, while giving his body the necessary strength to heal itself. Without her, he tended to slip up a little.

Although, he would be lying if he said _some_ slip ups weren’t intentional, because some _were_ , in some desperate hope to get Sabah to come back and set him on course again.

Though, now that he thought about it, he felt ashamed. Not only was he causing unnecessary harm to himself, he was just being _selfish_ -

 _\- Ow, something just hurt again, really badly_.

And stupid.

 _And_ pathetic.

He quickly shook those thoughts away, deciding it was time to finally answer his friend’s question, though when he went to do so, he only found himself being propped up, his arm draped over Soren, who held a very concerned gaze.

“Wha- when did…?” Marcos stumbled, struggling to gather his thoughts.

Soren simply shook his head. “Come on, Marcos. You’re obviously not doing so good.” His voice, like his face, held a tone of extreme concern. “Let’s just get you back inside. I’m sure they’ve got a bed you can – “

“ _No_ ,” Marcos quickly interjected. “I… I’ve got a _duty_ ; I’ve been out of it for two weeks now.” He turned his head to Soren, and tried to wriggle himself free, but to no avail.

What he said wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth, either. The full truth was that he’d hoped Sabah would be there, too.

Soren shook his head. “Look man, you literally just _fell_! From doing nothing! There’s other Crownguard, too, you know.”

“Soren, _please,_ ” Marcos tried to plea. “Give me this.”

Sensing there was no point in arguing, Soren decided to cave in. “Fine, but if your leg gives out on you again, I’m going to have a _long_ talk with Ezran.”

Marcos grinned slightly, finally freeing himself and now walking on his own, though slowly. “Like the King would really do anything besides just cross his arms and look at me disappointedly.”

The two laughed at the joke. To anyone else, the comment would undoubtedly be taken differently, perhaps even viewed as treason, but to those who were close to the King, and knew him for who he was as a person, it was nothing more than just friendly banter.

The two Crownguard finally entered the main hall of the Lux Aurean palace. Marcos looked around, desperately attempting to find _her_ , but he couldn’t really make out anyone properly. He saw the two Generals, Amaya and Janai, though the latter was probably a Queen now as opposed to a General, along with the King and Crown Prince, with another Sunfire Elf with short, red hair showing him a few things out of what looked to be a book.

Then, his heart skipped a beat.

He found her, and she looked beautiful.

She was in some sort of dress, and it was of a fine red and gold silk, though since she was sitting, it was hard to make out the details. That, and she was also turned to her side, deep in conversation with two other Sunfire Elves, who he recognized as some of Sabah’s friends that she introduced him to during the march from the Storm Spire.

_Don’t stare, Marcos. Look away and just act natural._

Then, her gaze met his, and his heart just _stopped_.

 _Okay, Marcos. Don’t screw this up. Just smile, or something, and keep moving. Don’t be an idiot_.

All he managed to do was just awkwardly wave in Sabah’s direction. In response she waved back, then the three Sunfires giggled amongst themselves.

 _Did she just laugh? Oh, wait, they’re_ all _laughing? Oh… they’re laughing at me. God’s I’m such an idiot!_

He scorned himself, frustratingly tearing his gaze from Sabah. He was so angry with himself that he didn’t even notice the slight limp in which he carried himself.

He finally arrived at his designated position, which was at the far right end of the long table in the palace, which was right next to someone he thought was named Dennis. _Or was it Corvus?_

He stayed at his post for about thirty minutes, focusing on the jovial music to keep his mind away from the growing numbness within his leg.

He also focused on the music so he wouldn’t focus on Sabah, though he couldn’t help himself from stealing glances at her every now and then.

However, now what was once a growing numbness was now a full shock of pain, and he grunted, gripping his leg furiously, though it did not seem to do much.

He felt a handful of eyes dart to him, so he quickly tried to play it off.

 _Gods, I hope Sabah didn’t see that_.

It turns out that she did.

Marcos saw her face fill with worry, so he tried to give a reassuring smile.

As expected, it didn’t work. He saw Sabah quickly jump out of her chair, despite the visible protests from that of her friends, and grab her personal handbag. She shimmied through the crowd and walked – though it almost looked like a brisk jog - across the dance floor, to rush to his side.

“Hey,” Marcos said, happy at both the fact he would get to hear her voice again, and also that she so quickly dropped everything to come to his rescue.

“Hey yourself,” she replied, matching his sarcasm. “Mind telling me what _that_ was about?” She swirled her finger around Marcos’ left leg.

“What? That? Nothing, it was just…” he trailed off, though did not bother to lie when he saw Sabah’s unamused face.

“It was just…?”

Marcos sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Now it was her turn to sigh. “ _Nexus_ , I leave you to your own devices for _two days_ and you already fall apart without me. What am I going to do?” There was a hint of sarcasm on her voice, but she could tell Marcos didn’t pick up on it when his head fell in shame. “Just come on, I’ll see what painkillers I have to make you feel better.” She turned around and started to walk, though she paused before continuing to speak. “Unless you have any other bright ideas?”

Marcos froze. _It’s now or never._

“Well, I - umm, actually…” Marcos couldn’t help but stumble. When she turned around, almost about to ask ‘what,’ he took a deep breath. “How about, a… umm… a dance?” He shrunk inwards and closed his eyes, wishing very much he didn’t just ask that, and even more for him to simply not exist in that moment right now.

Sabah blinked her eyes, then looked to the ground uncomfortably. “A… _dance_ …?” She asked, very weary of the proposition.

 _Shit._ Was all Marcos could think of.

“Sabah, I’m sorry, really, don’t worry about it. I’ll just – “

“Marcos.”

“ – Really, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to – “

“ _Marcos_.”

“ – I really do get it. We’ll just pretend this never – “

“ _Marcos!_ ”

The Crownguard froze. Never before had he been so scared of _anything_.

“I’d love to.” She said, smiling warmly as she held out her arm.

He blinked. _She… what?!_ He went to go pinch himself, which earned a laugh from the Sunfire.

“I mean, unless you didn’t _mean it_ …” She giggled, turning to walk away.

“No! Wait, I – “

“Marcos, I’m just _teasing_ you. Relax.” She walked up to the human to put a hand on his broad shoulder. “Really, I’d love to share a dance with you.” Marcos saw her perk her ears. “And the music is just good enough for a slow dance. Shall we?” She asked, holding out her hand.

Marcos reached out for it with one of his own, though it was shaking profusely. However, despite the sheer amount of butterflies in his stomach, he managed to conjure up a genuine, warm smile.

Sabah led Marcos down to the main dance floor, though going slowly to account for his injury. She knew it was a bad idea, to strain the injury further like this, but Marcos offered – and she’d definitely be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t happy at the turn of events.

Once they got there, they definitely garnered some attention. All of the pairs were either solely Durenese or Lux Aurean – certainly not a mixture of both.

They elected to ignore the stares though, instead just focusing on themselves as they slowly rocked to the tune of the music.

“This is… nice…” Marcos said, unsure of how to proceed.

Sabah smiled. “It is.” There was another brief pause, which Sabah decided she didn’t like. “You know; I could get used to this.” She tried to contain her grin. Though she was trying to mess with him, she truly meant what she said.

Marcos, as anticipated, was taken completely off guard. “You – you could?” He didn’t quite know what to say, so he shut himself up before he said something completely stupid.

“Of course I could.” Sabah took a deep breath, then smiled as she looked up into his brown eyes. “You’re smart, caring, passionate, a warrior of great skill,” she started to explain, and her smile turned more into a grin, “and, if I don’t say so myself, _devilishly_ handsome.” However, just as soon as her grin formed, a frown came to replace it. “Though, I don’t really know if – “

Marcos decided to cut her off by placing a kiss on her lips, which she hesitantly leaned in to.

They were both snapped back into reality when they heard a general gasp from a few of the attendees surrounding them, but thankfully the entire festivity didn’t just turn itself over and stop.

Marcos blinked. _Shit._ _Again_. “Sabah! I’m sorry! Really, I- I don’t know what I was thinking!” He started to panic, his entire being screaming internally. “You were just… saying those things, and – I’m really sorry!”

“Marcos, it’s fine.” She seemed to calm down and recover far faster than he had been able to. “Would you just be quiet, for once?”

“What – “

Sabah elected to return the gesture he gave her, cutting him off by a slow kiss, which he immediately reciprocated.

“Wow…” Marcos said, leaning his forehead to rest on hers. “That was…”

“…amazing,” Sabah finished for him. She breathed heavily, then broke their foreheads apart to look into his eyes again. “What would you say if I told you I’ve been waiting for you to do that all week?”

Marcos chuckled slightly. “A whole week? Really?” She nodded with a sly smile at the question, which caused Marcos to gain the courage to kiss her again. “I think I’d say something along the lines of me wishing you would’ve pushed me to do it sooner, but…”

“But…?” Sabah seemed worried.

Marcos exhaled deeply. “But… I don’t know if _we_ could work…” Marcos held his head low at that. The fact _he’d_ just kissed a woman, and now _he_ was telling her that it wasn’t a good idea?

Sabah responded by cupping his cheek in her hand, bringing his eyes to meet hers. “Then let us just enjoy this night. We can worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.” She paused. “Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.” Marcos smiled warmly as he pressed his forehead to hers again. “Though I think I’ve had enough with dancing for now. Leg’s really starting to kill me now.”

Sabah chuckled at that. “Then come on, let us go to the infirmary. You can prop your leg up and rest for a while.” She started to lead him towards the door in the back, having him rest a lot of his weight on her arm as she supported him.

“But what about your friends?” His question was valid, as he did not want her to just abandon the other two just for him.

“Arynthia and Calamine will just have to understand that I’ve finally found someone better than them.”

Marcos smiled at that. He knew she was simply playing with him, but the comment still made him feel good. _What is this Elf doing to me?_

What was realistically only a three minute walk took about ten due to Marcos’ slow pace, but Sabah didn’t mind. It was better that he get there in one piece than in any sort of rush. Despite the painful grunts he made, his leg was not falling off any time soon.

“Come on,” she teased when they finally arrived at their destination, “don’t be so dramatic about it.”

He chuckled as he was helped onto the bed. “Easy for you to say when it feels like your leg is being ripped off by a banther.”

Sabah walked over to the medicine cabinet, searching amongst the many brews and potions. She might not be a mage or a proper healer, but she knew a thing or two enough to pass for an alchemist. “Does it _really_ feel like that?” As much as she wanted to joke about it, she couldn’t. One’s health was too important to be a joking matter to her.

“Well, sorta, but not really.” Marcos said, shrugging as he finally laid down. “Hurts a ton, but on a scale of one to ten, I’d say it’s about a six right now.”

She finally released her caught breath. “Good. Still, though, it concerns me greatly that you are in this much pain. The battle was two weeks ago, and your wound itself has already healed, from what I can tell.” She reached up and grabbed a small vial. “I can’t help but think we’re treating you for something completely different to what is actually wrong.”

Marcos contemplated that for a moment. It _was_ strange, now that he thought about it. His leg had good days and bad days, he supposed, but he had to admit nothing like _this_. On its worst days, lately, it was only around a four, _maybe_ four-and-a-half, but that really was it. “Maybe there’s something internally that didn’t heal right?” He really was grasping at straws here, but he was just trying to get out ideas.

Sabah finally reached him and sat next to him on the bed, unplugging the small cork from the vial and holding it up to his face. He recoiled at the stench, but a stern gaze was enough to get him to refer to her better judgement.

After downing what equated to about a shot of liquor’s worth, he immediately started gagging. “ _Gods_ , what was in that?!”

She simply shrugged, getting up to hide the smug grin on her face.

“Wait… you don’t even know what was in it?!” He started to get up, but a firm hand was placed on his chest to urge him to lay back down.

“Oh, _I_ know what’s in it. _You_ are the one who doesn’t want to know.” She struggled hard to contain her laugh, but in the end managed to keep is suppressed. There truly wasn’t anything that bad in it, but he didn’t need to know that. She found it incredibly fun to tease him.

He groaned. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

She placed the empty vial down on the nightstand beside the bed and decided to crawl in next to him. Before he could even ask ‘ _what_ ,’ she placed one of her fingers on his lips. “Just… let it happen, Marcos. You’re going to be gone tomorrow, so let us just enjoy what time we have left in each other’s company, okay?”

He nodded in response. He never thought the day would come when he would _want_ to be in Xadia, yet here that day came. He released an unsteady breath out of nervousness, and she went up to look at him, but he quickly responded by wrapping his right arm around her waist, and moving his left hand to hold the hand she rested on his chest. “Sabah…?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He spoke as he closed his eyes. “It’s only going to make things harder for when I have to go.”

She nodded almost immediately, then looked up to him. She rested her head on her shoulder as she tightened her own grip around his hand. “I am positive. You are probably the best thing to happen to me, Marcos. I’m willing to try, despite the looks we’ll get, and despite the distance. I will swear to you, on my honor, that I will remain faithful to you and only you, if you swear to me the same.”

Marcos smiled and kissed her forehead. He could probably not meet the same intensity she just reached, but he will be damned if he didn’t match the sincerity. “Then I’ll swear it, too. I won’t even _look_ at another girl, Sabah.”

She chuckled. “Then how do I know you won’t fall for a _man_?”

He laughed at the comment. “I won’t fall for _anyone_ , because they are not _you_.”

She only tightened her embrace around him for that, snuggling her head into the cradle of his neck.

He didn’t mind her horn poking into his cheek, because it was _Sabah_.

They elected to remain like that for a while, simply just lying in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thoughts on this chapter:  
> -I was growing tired of introducing one new character at a time, so have two! Plus an established character, Hendyr! In case anyone is confused, Hendyr is that Skywing Elf we saw near the end of Season 3, where Callum uses the Historia Viventum spell to learn what truly happened to Rayla's parents. Also, welcome Princess Aerra and Taoghan! Aerra was the unnamed princess during the earlier chapters, and Taoghan is completely new! If you're having trouble figuring out how Taoghan fights, just picture Darth Maul from Star Wars (and yes, his fight with Mansa was influenced by me writing it like a lightsaber duel, haha!)  
> -Lux Aurea needs some happiness to take everyones' minds, and it was also a good way to add in another fan's suggestion! Kazi agrees to help teach Callum the basics of High Elven, and also gives him one of their old books they used as a child. Thanks for the suggestion! :D  
> -Baldur gets the hug he so desperately needed. ALso, we learn a little bit more about the step-mother Lissa! I'm surprised no one caught on to the hint last chapter, but let's see how many people realize who Lissa really is now ;)  
> -AHHHHHHHHHHHHH MARCBAH YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! I LOVED writing this section!!!!!!! It's also part of why the chapter is 4 sections instead of five. I'd planned a fifth section (which will open up the next chapter), but I didn't feel like writing 10k+ words, so there. Anyway, MARCBAH!!! I don't know why but I just absolutely love these two, and I plan to take inspiration from a fellow writer (Ragnar_the_Red, to be precise) in that I'll be writing an 'E'-rated spin off of this series focusing on Marcos x Sabah, so stay tuned for that!
> 
> As always,  
> Leave kudos if you enjoyed, and leave comments if you have something to say! I don't care what you say, whether its constructive, appreciative, etc.! And if you just have something horrible to say, I'll just throw a cringe meme at you and call it a day :D
> 
> Yours truly,  
> IronsideHeldenhammer
> 
> \-----  
> Posted:  
> 2 Nov 2020


	8. Personal Update (Not a Chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT a new chapter for Mark of a Dragon.
> 
> I am sorry.

First off, I would just like to profusely apologize for getting your hopes up about an early chapter. I just don't know how else to get out an update like this.

So, here goes:

For those of you who may have followed some of the chapter notes in earlier chapters, you might remember me mentioning some things going on in my family, and how it has been affecting my production of chapters slightly. I would like to take this time to explain what is going on, as best I can.

My great-grandfather was just recently diagnosed with liver cancer, which has by now spread to his colon as well. My family and I have known for a little bit now, but the doctor officially confirmed our suspicions a few days ago.

I am **_NOT_** using this as an attempt to do anything malicious or garner sympathy or anything like that. I just figured y'all deserve to know what's going on.

I am going to attempt my best to stick to my biweekly schedule, as I desperately need a distraction to keep myself occupied, I'm going to ask for y'all's forgiveness if I slip up once or twice, or if the quality of the chapters drops a bit. It's just hard seeing the man I knew to be the strongest person ever have his ass kicked by this.

Needless to say, cancer sucks.

Anyway, that's it from me for now, folks. I'll do my best to have the next _actual_ chapter up this coming weekend, by Sunday the 15th.


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